Friday, December 21, 2012
It Sucks...
I don't often bitch about my own life. Well, right now I'm tired enough to not care.
It sucks sometimes. Everything just sucks.
It sucks to have people lie to your face and then pretend like nothing has happened. It sucks to have your hopes lifted only to have them crushed again, and even worse to not even be surprised by it. To love someone who doesn't love you back. To put forth so much effort into keeping something you believe in alive only to find out the other person could care less. To be tossed aside while they smile and lie "we can still be friends".
It sucks to put your heart out there for someone after you've put in back together, to have them lead you on and then hook up with someone else. It sucks to have them look you in the eye and tell you that nothing's changed when everything has. To have to sit next to them almost everyday and force a smile like your heart isn't breaking. To have them complain about how hard their life is when someone denies their affections and fools around with other people. To sit there and try to feel sorry for them, and realize that you can't. To hate yourself for it.
It's sucks to feel worthless. When you wake up and look in the mirror and wonder why the person looking back at you matters. It sucks to feel scared and ashamed, because if no one has wanted to keep you up to this point, why would anyone want you? To feel like you can't help anyone and that they don't really trust you. To feel like you mean nothing because no one has shown you that you mean anything more.
Sometimes being alive sucks. It sucks to feel like you're forcing yourself forward, forcing smiles because you don't want anyone to worry. It sucks telling people that they need to care about themselves, and feeling like a hypocrite. It sucks not being able to tell anyone because every time you've ever been vulnerable, let someone in, you've been pushed away. To want nothing more than to cry and feel like you have to be strong instead. To want someone to hug you and tell you "it's okay to break down". To want someone who just understands.
It all just really sucks.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Constrictive Gender Roles
I came across this recently while lurking around Facebook:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/12/11/little-boy-sam-pink-shoes-preschool-photograph_n_2277397.html?utm_hp_ref=gay-voices&ncid=edlinkusaolp00000009
And the blog post that it is responding to:
http://thestir.cafemom.com/big_kid/147885/mom_who_let_son_wear
It's about a little five year old boy who wore a pair of pink zebra print shoes to his first day of preschool. This kid has got my respect.
While Mary Fischer, the author of the cafemom.com post, is glad that this boy is expressing himself, she doesn't think that he should. Let's take a moment to wrap our minds around that. She afraid that by so blatantly stepping out of his gender role and wearing pink shoes to school he's inviting the criticism and bullying of others. I agree with her that there probably will be those who will go after this kid for what he wears. What I don't agree with is making it this little boys fault for wearing the shoes that he wants. Why are we concerned that he's doing something that makes him happy, and not about teaching our kids to be accepting of his right to express himself?
She goes on to say that if her six year old were to do the same thing he wouldn't make it through the bus ride without being taunted and "told him he was dressed like a girl". I have an issue with that sentence. We live in a society where we have "boy" and "girl" and god forbid you ever deviate from your prescribed gender role even for a moment because it will open you up for ridicule. Unless you're a girl, then it's okay to wear pants and act tough. Why are we picking on boys and stuffing them into this little box labeled "masculine" and telling them that if they so much as step out of it, for even a moment, they will be ridiculed and bullied or, heaven forbid, be told that they're gay? That worries me far more than a five year old boy wanting to wear pink shoes to school.
This is the society in which we find ourselves. We applaud boys who pick on those who are effeminate and not ideally masculine, we tell them that they're just "boys being boys" and condone their behavior, teach them that it's acceptable. Girls have broken out of their gender roles bit by bit, wearing pants and tee shirts and we look at them and say "wow, look how empowered she is". We look at a man who wears a dress or a skirt and say "wow, what a faggot". And the worst part, as a society, we are completely fine with this. We enforce it in our schools, workplaces, and, maybe worst of all, in our children. We teach girls to go out and be whoever they want to be and we teach boys to go out be good husbands, fathers, never look to feminine, never show too much emotion, never cry, and never be anything less than the perfect and completely unattainable image of a real man or they'll be worth nothing. If you aren't any of these things, for even a moment, you're ridiculed, mocked, and told that you are lower than dirt.
Why?
Please, someone, tell me why because I don't get it. I don't know why we'd go after a little boy who just wants to wear pink shoes to school and not the people who tell him it's wrong. I don't know why girls can wear blue, like hunting, and drive a truck without anyone batting an eyelash but boys who wear pink, like to shop or cook, and dress well are automatically vilified and harassed because as a society we have a problem with it and it's a problem we're not willing to address.
The people like this five year old boy who choose to express themselves aren't the problem, the problem is the people who tell him it's wrong.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/12/11/little-boy-sam-pink-shoes-preschool-photograph_n_2277397.html?utm_hp_ref=gay-voices&ncid=edlinkusaolp00000009
And the blog post that it is responding to:
http://thestir.cafemom.com/big_kid/147885/mom_who_let_son_wear
It's about a little five year old boy who wore a pair of pink zebra print shoes to his first day of preschool. This kid has got my respect.
While Mary Fischer, the author of the cafemom.com post, is glad that this boy is expressing himself, she doesn't think that he should. Let's take a moment to wrap our minds around that. She afraid that by so blatantly stepping out of his gender role and wearing pink shoes to school he's inviting the criticism and bullying of others. I agree with her that there probably will be those who will go after this kid for what he wears. What I don't agree with is making it this little boys fault for wearing the shoes that he wants. Why are we concerned that he's doing something that makes him happy, and not about teaching our kids to be accepting of his right to express himself?
She goes on to say that if her six year old were to do the same thing he wouldn't make it through the bus ride without being taunted and "told him he was dressed like a girl". I have an issue with that sentence. We live in a society where we have "boy" and "girl" and god forbid you ever deviate from your prescribed gender role even for a moment because it will open you up for ridicule. Unless you're a girl, then it's okay to wear pants and act tough. Why are we picking on boys and stuffing them into this little box labeled "masculine" and telling them that if they so much as step out of it, for even a moment, they will be ridiculed and bullied or, heaven forbid, be told that they're gay? That worries me far more than a five year old boy wanting to wear pink shoes to school.
This is the society in which we find ourselves. We applaud boys who pick on those who are effeminate and not ideally masculine, we tell them that they're just "boys being boys" and condone their behavior, teach them that it's acceptable. Girls have broken out of their gender roles bit by bit, wearing pants and tee shirts and we look at them and say "wow, look how empowered she is". We look at a man who wears a dress or a skirt and say "wow, what a faggot". And the worst part, as a society, we are completely fine with this. We enforce it in our schools, workplaces, and, maybe worst of all, in our children. We teach girls to go out and be whoever they want to be and we teach boys to go out be good husbands, fathers, never look to feminine, never show too much emotion, never cry, and never be anything less than the perfect and completely unattainable image of a real man or they'll be worth nothing. If you aren't any of these things, for even a moment, you're ridiculed, mocked, and told that you are lower than dirt.
Why?
Please, someone, tell me why because I don't get it. I don't know why we'd go after a little boy who just wants to wear pink shoes to school and not the people who tell him it's wrong. I don't know why girls can wear blue, like hunting, and drive a truck without anyone batting an eyelash but boys who wear pink, like to shop or cook, and dress well are automatically vilified and harassed because as a society we have a problem with it and it's a problem we're not willing to address.
The people like this five year old boy who choose to express themselves aren't the problem, the problem is the people who tell him it's wrong.
Monday, November 19, 2012
I'm completely lost...
For as long as I can remember, I've always been told that if something really serious happens, tell an adult that you feel like you can trust. I only had one situation in my high school career that actual made it to an adult. It was my junior year AP US teacher, and he more or less coaxed the truth out of my after I nearly broke down in class. Other than that I have never really gone to an adult with a problem. Most things I looked at myself in the mirror and said "Don't stress this, it's something you can handle".
That's not the case anymore.
Last night I had a conversation with a friend that really scared me and left me feeling emotionally numb. I spent my whole night feeling scared, despite talking to one of my really good friends who could do little more than assure me that I had done the best that I could do and telling me "you're twenty, you're not equipped to deal with things like this yet". And he was right.
No amount of looking in the mirror and assuring myself that I'm strong enough to do this was going to help this situation. It actually holds the potential of making it much worse. So for the first time in my life I had to accept that this wasn't something that I could deal with all on my own, that I needed to ask for help. Not help like the kind you need on a final paper or on zipping up a dress, but the kind of help that requires you to be vulnerable in front of someone else and say in honesty: I have no clue what I'm doing.
Now this, scares the hell out of me. I've spent my entire life trying to always have an answer, a plan, anything. The thought of being alone and without a hope in the world terrifies me like nothing you can imagine. And so to have to admit that I didn't have the skill set to deal with this issue made me feel really worthless and like I couldn't do anything to help.
Today I talked to my academic adviser, who has been one of the kindest people to me since I came to college a little over a year ago. I told her what the problem was and that I didn't know how to handle it and that I was so scared that if I did anything wrong that the everything would end badly and that I'd never be able to forgive myself. She just looked at me and calmly told me all the options that I had available and who to contact and what steps to take and that if I needed any more help that her door would be open.
I'm an adult, and there's a lot of things that I'm very capable of handling, but there is still so much that I'm completely lost on, and that I can't afford to be lost on. I'm glad that even as an adult, I can always talk to someone older and wiser who knows exactly what to do, and make sure that I know what to do in the future.
That's not the case anymore.
Last night I had a conversation with a friend that really scared me and left me feeling emotionally numb. I spent my whole night feeling scared, despite talking to one of my really good friends who could do little more than assure me that I had done the best that I could do and telling me "you're twenty, you're not equipped to deal with things like this yet". And he was right.
No amount of looking in the mirror and assuring myself that I'm strong enough to do this was going to help this situation. It actually holds the potential of making it much worse. So for the first time in my life I had to accept that this wasn't something that I could deal with all on my own, that I needed to ask for help. Not help like the kind you need on a final paper or on zipping up a dress, but the kind of help that requires you to be vulnerable in front of someone else and say in honesty: I have no clue what I'm doing.
Now this, scares the hell out of me. I've spent my entire life trying to always have an answer, a plan, anything. The thought of being alone and without a hope in the world terrifies me like nothing you can imagine. And so to have to admit that I didn't have the skill set to deal with this issue made me feel really worthless and like I couldn't do anything to help.
Today I talked to my academic adviser, who has been one of the kindest people to me since I came to college a little over a year ago. I told her what the problem was and that I didn't know how to handle it and that I was so scared that if I did anything wrong that the everything would end badly and that I'd never be able to forgive myself. She just looked at me and calmly told me all the options that I had available and who to contact and what steps to take and that if I needed any more help that her door would be open.
I'm an adult, and there's a lot of things that I'm very capable of handling, but there is still so much that I'm completely lost on, and that I can't afford to be lost on. I'm glad that even as an adult, I can always talk to someone older and wiser who knows exactly what to do, and make sure that I know what to do in the future.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Just walk through the damn door...
Surprisingly, I'm not dead. Also surprisingly I should be writing a paper and instead I am choosing to update this thing in the first time in literally half a year.
My friend Kelton suggested that I make a whole other blog for the sole purpose of telling stories like the one that I'm going to tell in just a minute, but that is more work than I'm willing to put into it, so I'm just going to tell you all now. It's happened three times now, so maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea. Too bad I'm such an unmotivated fuck. Anyway, onto our story. Not to mention this is more weird shit that just happens to occur in my daily life, so it fits in here pretty well. So, I was walking to the student center on campus today and a man held the first set of doors open for me. Since I tend to like to return the favor when someone holds a door open for me, I held the second door open for him. He entered the small middle ground and made to take the door away from me. This is where past experience kicked in. Oddly enough I've been in this situation more than once, and with completely different people each time. This being the case I knew that he was reaching for the door to take it from me, so naturally I held onto the handle as tight as I possibly could to prevent it being taken from me.
He looked me in the eye and said, "oh no, ladies go first". Thanks to my increasing time spent in situations such as this, I've been getting better at responding to such things, so rather than stand there like an idiot I shook my head and told him that I insisted he go first. Once again, he shook his head and said that he had a rule about this sort of thing, to which I replied that so did I, because after shit like this happens to you for the third time you develop the mindset that you aren't backing down no matter what he says. He just continued to smile at me and told me that he respected that. What happens next, Kelsey? Is probably something close to what you're thinking right now. Well, I'll tell you. Rather than just walking through the door that I've now been holding open for almost a full minute and a half, he completely side steps me and goes through the other door. This left me standing there thinking: "...the fuck just happened?".
In my opinion, not handled in the most chivalrous way possible. Clearly I'm going to hold this door open for you, you could at least throw me a bone for my efforts by taking the two seconds and just walking through this still open door. No, it's better to look like a complete jackass and just ignore me to go through another door. Should I start doing that? Just completely disregard the kindness of strangers? ... Yea, we all know that I'm not going to start doing that. Maybe only in these situations, but I'll be sure to slam the second door behind me so that I run the chance of hitting him with it.
Guys, it's nice to do things like hold a door open for someone, but that's the point. SOMEONE. Not just girls, everybody.
Oh, and just a closing note, when a girl holds the door open for you, just fucking go through it like you have some actual class that wasn't just that archaic shit beaten into your still soft skull as a child. Believe it or not, most people enjoy reciprocating an act of kindness.
My friend Kelton suggested that I make a whole other blog for the sole purpose of telling stories like the one that I'm going to tell in just a minute, but that is more work than I'm willing to put into it, so I'm just going to tell you all now. It's happened three times now, so maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea. Too bad I'm such an unmotivated fuck. Anyway, onto our story. Not to mention this is more weird shit that just happens to occur in my daily life, so it fits in here pretty well. So, I was walking to the student center on campus today and a man held the first set of doors open for me. Since I tend to like to return the favor when someone holds a door open for me, I held the second door open for him. He entered the small middle ground and made to take the door away from me. This is where past experience kicked in. Oddly enough I've been in this situation more than once, and with completely different people each time. This being the case I knew that he was reaching for the door to take it from me, so naturally I held onto the handle as tight as I possibly could to prevent it being taken from me.
He looked me in the eye and said, "oh no, ladies go first". Thanks to my increasing time spent in situations such as this, I've been getting better at responding to such things, so rather than stand there like an idiot I shook my head and told him that I insisted he go first. Once again, he shook his head and said that he had a rule about this sort of thing, to which I replied that so did I, because after shit like this happens to you for the third time you develop the mindset that you aren't backing down no matter what he says. He just continued to smile at me and told me that he respected that. What happens next, Kelsey? Is probably something close to what you're thinking right now. Well, I'll tell you. Rather than just walking through the door that I've now been holding open for almost a full minute and a half, he completely side steps me and goes through the other door. This left me standing there thinking: "...the fuck just happened?".
In my opinion, not handled in the most chivalrous way possible. Clearly I'm going to hold this door open for you, you could at least throw me a bone for my efforts by taking the two seconds and just walking through this still open door. No, it's better to look like a complete jackass and just ignore me to go through another door. Should I start doing that? Just completely disregard the kindness of strangers? ... Yea, we all know that I'm not going to start doing that. Maybe only in these situations, but I'll be sure to slam the second door behind me so that I run the chance of hitting him with it.
Guys, it's nice to do things like hold a door open for someone, but that's the point. SOMEONE. Not just girls, everybody.
Oh, and just a closing note, when a girl holds the door open for you, just fucking go through it like you have some actual class that wasn't just that archaic shit beaten into your still soft skull as a child. Believe it or not, most people enjoy reciprocating an act of kindness.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
I have a Dream ...
I haven't posted in a while.
I haven't really had much to say. Well, that's not true, I always have a lot to say. I always have something that I'm fighting for, advocating for, rallying against. I need that in my life. I need something to push me so that I can push back. If not I think I tend to spiral into depression.
The strange thing about that is, I want this to be a world where I have nothing to fight for.
I acknowledge that I need conflict in my life, that I thrive when I have something to throw myself completely into because it means something to me. At the same time however, I want a world where I won't have that. My dream is to one day see a world where I don't have to fight because there's nothing to fight against. There won't be bigotry or hatred in the world, there won't be pain or illness, no one would ever feel like suicide is the only way out, and everyone will be able to live freely and happily being exactly who they are. This is the world that I dream of.
For the last year all I've wanted is to be able to help the victims of bullying and at risk and suicidal youth and adolescents. That's what I know I want to do with the rest of my life. And even so, I hope in the very bottom of my heart that the day will come where I won't have a job because what I strive to aide will stop being an issue. Children will be able to feel safe in their homes and in the world.
Since high school I've been an advocate for LGBTQA rights and equality. I love it and am so glad that I have the opportunity to be involved. At the same time, I want a world where I won't need to be an advocate anymore. Anyone will be allowed to marry the person they love and live lives free of hatred, intolerance, and persecution.
This is the world I'm fighting for.
I'm fighting for a world where no one will have to fight because there will be no need. I know that it's ideal and that it seems like a silly and far away dream, but it's my dream, and one that I'm fighting for each and every day.
And as far away and unlikely as it seems, isn't that the kind of world we all hope we'll live to see?
I haven't really had much to say. Well, that's not true, I always have a lot to say. I always have something that I'm fighting for, advocating for, rallying against. I need that in my life. I need something to push me so that I can push back. If not I think I tend to spiral into depression.
The strange thing about that is, I want this to be a world where I have nothing to fight for.
I acknowledge that I need conflict in my life, that I thrive when I have something to throw myself completely into because it means something to me. At the same time however, I want a world where I won't have that. My dream is to one day see a world where I don't have to fight because there's nothing to fight against. There won't be bigotry or hatred in the world, there won't be pain or illness, no one would ever feel like suicide is the only way out, and everyone will be able to live freely and happily being exactly who they are. This is the world that I dream of.
For the last year all I've wanted is to be able to help the victims of bullying and at risk and suicidal youth and adolescents. That's what I know I want to do with the rest of my life. And even so, I hope in the very bottom of my heart that the day will come where I won't have a job because what I strive to aide will stop being an issue. Children will be able to feel safe in their homes and in the world.
Since high school I've been an advocate for LGBTQA rights and equality. I love it and am so glad that I have the opportunity to be involved. At the same time, I want a world where I won't need to be an advocate anymore. Anyone will be allowed to marry the person they love and live lives free of hatred, intolerance, and persecution.
This is the world I'm fighting for.
I'm fighting for a world where no one will have to fight because there will be no need. I know that it's ideal and that it seems like a silly and far away dream, but it's my dream, and one that I'm fighting for each and every day.
And as far away and unlikely as it seems, isn't that the kind of world we all hope we'll live to see?
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Valentine's Blues
It's my favorite time of the year!
...That was sarcasm.
It's only two, almost one, short days away from Valentine's Day and I again find myself sitting home alone resenting the holiday for no better reason than that I have no one to really share it with. Granted if you actually like someone you should probably be cherishing them all the time and not just one day out of the year because you feel obligated, but I digress. It's super easy to get down on yourself around Valentine's Day, especially if you're going on nineteen years having never spent a single one with anyone. The closest I came was when I was sixteen my dad took me out to dinner, a "sorry you're not seeing anyone, let's go bond over WWII" dinner.
Really fun, and really awkward.
I try to stay positive around this time, but it can be hard. It seems like every time you look around you see couples. Not to mention if you try to do anything outside the house on Valentine's Day it's like people automatically think you're a loser because you're there all alone. That's a horrible way to spend a day.
Coming down to it, you're not really upset that there's no one to give or receive chocolates or flowers or any other monetary show of affection. More than anything it's the reminder that you don't have anyones hand to hold or smile to make even the worst day seem better. It's missing a genuine connection with another human being that seems to make this holiday so downright depressing for some.
While I don't have an answer that's clean cut or overly encouraging, I have this: don't sweat it. Dating and love are complicated, and they're things that will come in time. Don't be afraid to say something to someone you care about, be in family or friends, or someone you haven't had the courage to ask out. Seize an opportunity.
And if that doesn't work out, don't sweat it. Just remember that all the Valentine's Day candy that will be on sale February 15th.
...That was sarcasm.
It's only two, almost one, short days away from Valentine's Day and I again find myself sitting home alone resenting the holiday for no better reason than that I have no one to really share it with. Granted if you actually like someone you should probably be cherishing them all the time and not just one day out of the year because you feel obligated, but I digress. It's super easy to get down on yourself around Valentine's Day, especially if you're going on nineteen years having never spent a single one with anyone. The closest I came was when I was sixteen my dad took me out to dinner, a "sorry you're not seeing anyone, let's go bond over WWII" dinner.
Really fun, and really awkward.
I try to stay positive around this time, but it can be hard. It seems like every time you look around you see couples. Not to mention if you try to do anything outside the house on Valentine's Day it's like people automatically think you're a loser because you're there all alone. That's a horrible way to spend a day.
Coming down to it, you're not really upset that there's no one to give or receive chocolates or flowers or any other monetary show of affection. More than anything it's the reminder that you don't have anyones hand to hold or smile to make even the worst day seem better. It's missing a genuine connection with another human being that seems to make this holiday so downright depressing for some.
While I don't have an answer that's clean cut or overly encouraging, I have this: don't sweat it. Dating and love are complicated, and they're things that will come in time. Don't be afraid to say something to someone you care about, be in family or friends, or someone you haven't had the courage to ask out. Seize an opportunity.
And if that doesn't work out, don't sweat it. Just remember that all the Valentine's Day candy that will be on sale February 15th.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Sing on...
I've been listening to music again lately.
Before anyone gets the idea that this means I'm listening to Bach or Mozart or anything like that, I'm not. I'm actually mostly listening to Sum 41, Rise Against, the LostProphets, and Avril Lavigne. Nothing overly complicated, but good in its own respect.
Every time I listen to most of it I can hear my mom sitting next to me in the car telling that I might be a happier person if I didn't listen to so much subversive and angry music. While that comment bothered me at the time, it doesn't bother me so much anymore. I like the music I listen to for a reason, it gives me some form of comfort.
While I was, and still am, drifting through my teen years I find that a lot of my time is spent dealing with my doubts and insecurities. It was miserable, but something that I ultimately had to go through. And I don't listen to these bands thinking that I'm being so rebel, or that I'm fighting against some unseen force. I listen to them because they sing about the world turning it's back on you, and you having to navigate the confusing and painful times on your own. They sing about how much it hurts to be in love, and how much better it can get. They sing about loss, mourning, and being afraid.
It's for these things that I listen to the music I do.
There's something profound about finding something that you connect to. It's comforting. You're able to relate so much of yourself to it, and not just the good parts. Even if it's just some song, sung by some band, they're singing about exactly how you feel.
When I was at one of the lowest parts of my life the summer before my senior year I can remember driving at 60 miles an hour through the residential neighborhoods in complete silence. When I got sick of that silence I turned the CD on and Rise Against's "Kotov Syndrome" came on. For the first time that day I stopped and just sat there, listening to this song that by some chance was talking about everything I was feeling. And as I sat there, I just cried.
Music has this ability to channel our emotions, make us feel that somewhere in the world there's someone who's felt the way we feel now. It has the power to connect us. It's something distinct and beautiful and helps us to not feel so alone. I, personally, will never be thankful enough for this. It's music that has reminded me that it's alright to feel lost and confused and scared. But it's also reminded me to be proud of what I feel, that it is a sign that I'm alive.
It reminds us that we're never really alone.
Before anyone gets the idea that this means I'm listening to Bach or Mozart or anything like that, I'm not. I'm actually mostly listening to Sum 41, Rise Against, the LostProphets, and Avril Lavigne. Nothing overly complicated, but good in its own respect.
Every time I listen to most of it I can hear my mom sitting next to me in the car telling that I might be a happier person if I didn't listen to so much subversive and angry music. While that comment bothered me at the time, it doesn't bother me so much anymore. I like the music I listen to for a reason, it gives me some form of comfort.
While I was, and still am, drifting through my teen years I find that a lot of my time is spent dealing with my doubts and insecurities. It was miserable, but something that I ultimately had to go through. And I don't listen to these bands thinking that I'm being so rebel, or that I'm fighting against some unseen force. I listen to them because they sing about the world turning it's back on you, and you having to navigate the confusing and painful times on your own. They sing about how much it hurts to be in love, and how much better it can get. They sing about loss, mourning, and being afraid.
It's for these things that I listen to the music I do.
There's something profound about finding something that you connect to. It's comforting. You're able to relate so much of yourself to it, and not just the good parts. Even if it's just some song, sung by some band, they're singing about exactly how you feel.
When I was at one of the lowest parts of my life the summer before my senior year I can remember driving at 60 miles an hour through the residential neighborhoods in complete silence. When I got sick of that silence I turned the CD on and Rise Against's "Kotov Syndrome" came on. For the first time that day I stopped and just sat there, listening to this song that by some chance was talking about everything I was feeling. And as I sat there, I just cried.
Music has this ability to channel our emotions, make us feel that somewhere in the world there's someone who's felt the way we feel now. It has the power to connect us. It's something distinct and beautiful and helps us to not feel so alone. I, personally, will never be thankful enough for this. It's music that has reminded me that it's alright to feel lost and confused and scared. But it's also reminded me to be proud of what I feel, that it is a sign that I'm alive.
It reminds us that we're never really alone.
Monday, January 23, 2012
People Deserve Better...
Today I felt like curling into a ball and just crying.
The reason I felt like crying is because, while helping a friend look up a political topic for an upcoming QSA (Queer Straight Alliance) meeting, I came across an article about a suicide in Tennessee, the second one in as many months. Again, it's been a result of bullying in schools, and a lack of protective laws that strive to prevent bullying.
No, rather than have laws that would protect not only LGBTQ youth, but everyone, from bullying, Republican Tennessee Senator Stacey Campfield is trying to pass, for the second time, the "don't say gay" bill. A bill that, if passed, will stop teachers from discussing homosexuality with students in grades K-9, even if the student is gay or has a gay family. Because that's what we need: less communication. Less trying to show people that just because you love someone who's the same sex as you doesn't mean you're out to corrupt the youth or push some agenda, but trying to gain the same rights and dignity that seems so minuscule to the straight, white population because those rights and dignities are a give in for them.
I feel sick to my stomach when I think that there are people, kids that are fourteen years old, who feel that killing themselves is the only way to escape the hate and persecution they face everyday for simply being who they are. No one should ever have to feel that hopeless, and it makes me so angry that people can stand by and let things like this happen.
In Utah, the state of my residence, a law was passed a few years back that prevented businesses not possessing a liquor licence from displaying alcohol in any place where it was possible for a minor to see it. Now, it that there can't be beer taps where children could see them. Why? Because they were worried that by seeing the alcohol, children would become curious and it would lead them to experimenting with alcohol. That was how we were going to solve the problem, by not talking about it. By hiding it until parents could feel 'comfortable' discussing it with their children.
How is this method helping?
How is hiding something from our youth and kids supposed to help them? Raising them ignorant so that they get to high school and finally run into these themes all they have is ignorance to go on. Ignorance breeds fear, and fear breed hatred. Not even allowing a discussion of a matter in school? Shocking kids with talk of sexuality, alcohol and drugs when they're in high school isn't going to help the problem. Most kids have had some experience with alcohol before they even reach high school. They're going to have questions about sex and sexuality before then too, and what's going to happen when there's no one there that can explain it to them because it's against the law for the school to and so many parents are reluctant to talk to their kids about it.
Acting like something doesn't exist, like it's not important enough to discuss, doesn't solve anything. If anything it makes kids more confused and more at risk. If we can't discuss homosexuality in schools how are we supposed to educate kids about why it's wrong to bully someone based on their sexual orientation or identity. If my parents had never talked to me about alcohol I would have never known the risks when I did drink. I know what sex is, I know how it works, and I know how to be safe because my parents didn't act like it was taboo subject that was never to be discussed. I know who I am because my parents and teachers were always willing to lend me a helping hand when I needed it.
This bill is wrong, and hatred and stigma are wrong. I'm not saying that homosexuality needs to be added to the school curriculum or that it has to be taught, but we have to be able to talk about it. I was pulled aside by a teacher, who I admire and respect, after class one day my junior year when a discussion on homosexuality had come up. He said I'd looked really troubled and wanted to know if everything was alright. I stood there and just started crying, because I had never expected anyone to ask me if I was alright. I had convinced myself that it was something that I had to deal with on my own. After that, I always knew there was someone that I could trust and talk to if I ever needed it. That is what this law would be preventing, and robbing from students.
We can't sweep it under the rug and act like adolescents aren't being confronted with it everyday. No one deserves to be bullied, and no one should ever feel like suicide is the only way out. These are the problems our lawmakers need to concern themselves with, not whether sexuality can or cannot be discussed in schools.
I want a country that isn't ruled by hate or intolerance. I want a country where I don't have to worry about being discriminated against on something as ingrained as their sexual identity or orientation. I want a world where anyone can stand up and say:
I'm here, I'm queer, and I'm not alone, so get used to it.
The reason I felt like crying is because, while helping a friend look up a political topic for an upcoming QSA (Queer Straight Alliance) meeting, I came across an article about a suicide in Tennessee, the second one in as many months. Again, it's been a result of bullying in schools, and a lack of protective laws that strive to prevent bullying.
No, rather than have laws that would protect not only LGBTQ youth, but everyone, from bullying, Republican Tennessee Senator Stacey Campfield is trying to pass, for the second time, the "don't say gay" bill. A bill that, if passed, will stop teachers from discussing homosexuality with students in grades K-9, even if the student is gay or has a gay family. Because that's what we need: less communication. Less trying to show people that just because you love someone who's the same sex as you doesn't mean you're out to corrupt the youth or push some agenda, but trying to gain the same rights and dignity that seems so minuscule to the straight, white population because those rights and dignities are a give in for them.
I feel sick to my stomach when I think that there are people, kids that are fourteen years old, who feel that killing themselves is the only way to escape the hate and persecution they face everyday for simply being who they are. No one should ever have to feel that hopeless, and it makes me so angry that people can stand by and let things like this happen.
In Utah, the state of my residence, a law was passed a few years back that prevented businesses not possessing a liquor licence from displaying alcohol in any place where it was possible for a minor to see it. Now, it that there can't be beer taps where children could see them. Why? Because they were worried that by seeing the alcohol, children would become curious and it would lead them to experimenting with alcohol. That was how we were going to solve the problem, by not talking about it. By hiding it until parents could feel 'comfortable' discussing it with their children.
How is this method helping?
How is hiding something from our youth and kids supposed to help them? Raising them ignorant so that they get to high school and finally run into these themes all they have is ignorance to go on. Ignorance breeds fear, and fear breed hatred. Not even allowing a discussion of a matter in school? Shocking kids with talk of sexuality, alcohol and drugs when they're in high school isn't going to help the problem. Most kids have had some experience with alcohol before they even reach high school. They're going to have questions about sex and sexuality before then too, and what's going to happen when there's no one there that can explain it to them because it's against the law for the school to and so many parents are reluctant to talk to their kids about it.
Acting like something doesn't exist, like it's not important enough to discuss, doesn't solve anything. If anything it makes kids more confused and more at risk. If we can't discuss homosexuality in schools how are we supposed to educate kids about why it's wrong to bully someone based on their sexual orientation or identity. If my parents had never talked to me about alcohol I would have never known the risks when I did drink. I know what sex is, I know how it works, and I know how to be safe because my parents didn't act like it was taboo subject that was never to be discussed. I know who I am because my parents and teachers were always willing to lend me a helping hand when I needed it.
This bill is wrong, and hatred and stigma are wrong. I'm not saying that homosexuality needs to be added to the school curriculum or that it has to be taught, but we have to be able to talk about it. I was pulled aside by a teacher, who I admire and respect, after class one day my junior year when a discussion on homosexuality had come up. He said I'd looked really troubled and wanted to know if everything was alright. I stood there and just started crying, because I had never expected anyone to ask me if I was alright. I had convinced myself that it was something that I had to deal with on my own. After that, I always knew there was someone that I could trust and talk to if I ever needed it. That is what this law would be preventing, and robbing from students.
We can't sweep it under the rug and act like adolescents aren't being confronted with it everyday. No one deserves to be bullied, and no one should ever feel like suicide is the only way out. These are the problems our lawmakers need to concern themselves with, not whether sexuality can or cannot be discussed in schools.
I want a country that isn't ruled by hate or intolerance. I want a country where I don't have to worry about being discriminated against on something as ingrained as their sexual identity or orientation. I want a world where anyone can stand up and say:
I'm here, I'm queer, and I'm not alone, so get used to it.
Friday, January 13, 2012
Paranoia, thy name is 2012...
Hello.
As I sit here, eating almonds and trying to pretend I don't have to walk all the way across campus in an hour, only to do it again in another hour, then go to the gym, I realize that I haven't posted anything here in forever. I can only attribute this to not wanting to do anything over the break and writers block. Maybe there just hasn't been anything particularly inspiring.
Now I'm back in classes, trying to decompress and get back into the swing of having actual responsibilities like cooking and cleaning. I still haven't cleaned my half of the room which is leading my roommate on her way to a nervous break down. Not sure why, it doesn't touch her half. Cooking is okay, I generally just eat whatever my friend Ehrin makes and then offer to do the dishes. We think it's a pretty sweet deal.
New Years has come and gone and we have now entered into what possibly could be our last year on this earth. Personally, I can't understand why we're taking advice from a people that full on vanished off the face of the earth, but that hasn't stopped a decent chunk of the population from doing so. This bothers me. Probably because, just in my lifetime (which is only nineteen years), this is the fourth or fifth time the world is supposed to end. I don't see how people can still care. It's like being told you'll get a free car if you show up alone in the middle of a desolate field only to find out you've been had and the person has stolen the majority of your possessions. And then showing up again the next time someone tells you the same lie.
It's madness.
Is some completely random act of god going to come down on us? Or have scientists just been sitting on their asses the last ten or so years and not doing their jobs of noticing world wide catastrophe that will strike in the year 2012? It bothers me that something like this can still whip the population into such a frenzy, especially since this is not the first time such a prediction has been made. Come on, Humanity, you're better than this.
Or maybe you're not. I don't know anymore.
On the whole, most people probably know this is crap, but that doesn't change the fact that a lot of people do. Oh well, my Criminal Justice teacher always said something that I think will be applicable for the rest of my life:
You can't fix stupid.
And with that, I will leave you. I hope that the year is filled with fulfilled New Years resolutions and joy and smiles and rainbows and kittens.
And I hope that we can look forward to a year that can end Armageddon free.
As I sit here, eating almonds and trying to pretend I don't have to walk all the way across campus in an hour, only to do it again in another hour, then go to the gym, I realize that I haven't posted anything here in forever. I can only attribute this to not wanting to do anything over the break and writers block. Maybe there just hasn't been anything particularly inspiring.
Now I'm back in classes, trying to decompress and get back into the swing of having actual responsibilities like cooking and cleaning. I still haven't cleaned my half of the room which is leading my roommate on her way to a nervous break down. Not sure why, it doesn't touch her half. Cooking is okay, I generally just eat whatever my friend Ehrin makes and then offer to do the dishes. We think it's a pretty sweet deal.
New Years has come and gone and we have now entered into what possibly could be our last year on this earth. Personally, I can't understand why we're taking advice from a people that full on vanished off the face of the earth, but that hasn't stopped a decent chunk of the population from doing so. This bothers me. Probably because, just in my lifetime (which is only nineteen years), this is the fourth or fifth time the world is supposed to end. I don't see how people can still care. It's like being told you'll get a free car if you show up alone in the middle of a desolate field only to find out you've been had and the person has stolen the majority of your possessions. And then showing up again the next time someone tells you the same lie.
It's madness.
Is some completely random act of god going to come down on us? Or have scientists just been sitting on their asses the last ten or so years and not doing their jobs of noticing world wide catastrophe that will strike in the year 2012? It bothers me that something like this can still whip the population into such a frenzy, especially since this is not the first time such a prediction has been made. Come on, Humanity, you're better than this.
Or maybe you're not. I don't know anymore.
On the whole, most people probably know this is crap, but that doesn't change the fact that a lot of people do. Oh well, my Criminal Justice teacher always said something that I think will be applicable for the rest of my life:
You can't fix stupid.
And with that, I will leave you. I hope that the year is filled with fulfilled New Years resolutions and joy and smiles and rainbows and kittens.
And I hope that we can look forward to a year that can end Armageddon free.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Shedding the Closet...
I cleaned out my closet today.
Generally I just grit my teeth and do my best to give away things I don't feel like I'll miss too much. I think this is mostly because I've always been strangely conscious of the fact that once I let something go, it's never coming back. The finality of it bothers me a little. That and I never really know how something will play into fashion in years to come. Or maybe I've got a mild form of hoarding, I don't know.
This year however, as I sat amongst the piles of clothes from past years I found that it wasn't really hard to get rid of anything. For the first time it didn't feel like a chore. It felt really liberating, like shedding the person that I've been for the last few years to make room for something new.
It was nice.
Fashions always been a touchy subject, mostly because it's been one of the hardest parts of life. Mostly because I never really had much sense of it. For most of my life I was content to just be "that girl". The one who marched to her own drum, wore boys clothes, and never really cared much about what anyone else thought. And that was fine, I loved being that person, but it also marked some difficulties I was having finding myself. My entire adolescents pretty much sucked. Then I went through the black goth phase, and then the baggy jeans and tank top phase. I have the clearest memory of standing in Target with a black shirt in my hands and having my mom tell me "Well, it is a cute shirt, but I don't want you turning into some punk goth kid".
I don't know why I remember any of these moments, it's not like they were the proudest moments of my life or anything. Contrary, they were some of the worst chunks of life. It was the years where I was so sure I knew who I was until, all of sudden, I didn't. It was like every other adolescents out there who spends so many years pretending they're fine while struggling to find some rhyme or reason to life. Trying to carve out who they're going to be for the rest of their life. Trying to make sense of things that seemed so insignificant until that point.
It's hard.
It's hard and it's scary and for a good year or two you're fairly certain this is the way it's going to be for the rest of your life. Inevitably though, something will come along that will snap you out of it, something that will help everything to start to fall into place. There will still be a long way to go, but you have a sense of where things will fall. You stop feeling so unsure.
Cleaning out your closet is a lot like shedding a layer of skin. You brush off the black shirts and torn up pants of yesterday to make way for the neon colored jeans and sweaters of tomorrow. You throw out all the mistakes and insecurity for something better, a more comfortable fit.
I'm happy to be entering the new year like this, getting yet another clean start to continue the journey to finding out who I am. I'm a lot more sure than I was five years ago, but no where near where I'm going to be five years from now. Just as I look at the dark clothes of years passed, I know I'll look at them again someday and be reminded of those terrible and confusing years, but also of the growth and change that I've been able to make as an individual.
I welcome this next chapter of my life with open arms.
Generally I just grit my teeth and do my best to give away things I don't feel like I'll miss too much. I think this is mostly because I've always been strangely conscious of the fact that once I let something go, it's never coming back. The finality of it bothers me a little. That and I never really know how something will play into fashion in years to come. Or maybe I've got a mild form of hoarding, I don't know.
This year however, as I sat amongst the piles of clothes from past years I found that it wasn't really hard to get rid of anything. For the first time it didn't feel like a chore. It felt really liberating, like shedding the person that I've been for the last few years to make room for something new.
It was nice.
Fashions always been a touchy subject, mostly because it's been one of the hardest parts of life. Mostly because I never really had much sense of it. For most of my life I was content to just be "that girl". The one who marched to her own drum, wore boys clothes, and never really cared much about what anyone else thought. And that was fine, I loved being that person, but it also marked some difficulties I was having finding myself. My entire adolescents pretty much sucked. Then I went through the black goth phase, and then the baggy jeans and tank top phase. I have the clearest memory of standing in Target with a black shirt in my hands and having my mom tell me "Well, it is a cute shirt, but I don't want you turning into some punk goth kid".
I don't know why I remember any of these moments, it's not like they were the proudest moments of my life or anything. Contrary, they were some of the worst chunks of life. It was the years where I was so sure I knew who I was until, all of sudden, I didn't. It was like every other adolescents out there who spends so many years pretending they're fine while struggling to find some rhyme or reason to life. Trying to carve out who they're going to be for the rest of their life. Trying to make sense of things that seemed so insignificant until that point.
It's hard.
It's hard and it's scary and for a good year or two you're fairly certain this is the way it's going to be for the rest of your life. Inevitably though, something will come along that will snap you out of it, something that will help everything to start to fall into place. There will still be a long way to go, but you have a sense of where things will fall. You stop feeling so unsure.
Cleaning out your closet is a lot like shedding a layer of skin. You brush off the black shirts and torn up pants of yesterday to make way for the neon colored jeans and sweaters of tomorrow. You throw out all the mistakes and insecurity for something better, a more comfortable fit.
I'm happy to be entering the new year like this, getting yet another clean start to continue the journey to finding out who I am. I'm a lot more sure than I was five years ago, but no where near where I'm going to be five years from now. Just as I look at the dark clothes of years passed, I know I'll look at them again someday and be reminded of those terrible and confusing years, but also of the growth and change that I've been able to make as an individual.
I welcome this next chapter of my life with open arms.
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