What do you do when you are in love, but you are too afraid to give it?
What do you do when you are freaked out of your mind and
you are to afraid to receive love?
Is it because you don't feel deserving enough?
Is it because of the lingering pain from broken hearts gone by?
Are you hopeless?
I stood by you in the veiled jasmine, wishing for a hand to hold that never came.
You looked at me with longing, yet longing did not spur you,
did not inspire great orchestrations of ardor or desire.
One ray of sun cast shadows on our faces which painted our hearts sinful crimson
and our hearts danced in that moment.
But all moments come and go alike, like fleeting breaths of wind or wisps of wave on the shore.
We stand as the ivy twines between us, and I remember less and less
of the man I call my heart's request.
When do we stop loving? When do I start calling you the one who got away?
Is it giving up when I look at you, sitting on the fence between the man who
owns hope and earnest pursuit and the sad woman with a straw hat in her
roses, dead from the bitter winters, pulling weeds and bleeding from the thorns,
who claims the lost love, the flower fallen from its hip, haven given all it can and recedes
when the fruit of the bloom shrivels and whispers away. I do not want to go to her realm,
full of sadness and disappointment, yet the more I wait,
the less patience I have for the eager man whistling tunes and expecting sunshine
when the gray clouds threaten to burst.
Someday, you will have to tell her - whether she be me or a girl who stood next to you in a bar -
that you love her, that you need her, and if you allow this fear, this flinching reaction
to rule your heart, you will end up
lamenting a lost love, the heart broken that was never promised,
and that day will be infinitely more immense a burden on your heart
than all the pain you sought to avoid in the first place.
And then, truly, you will see that life is built around endurance and not evasion,
and you will wish you had endured the life which would have
been well worth the trepidation
for all that human frailty.
Monday, July 28, 2014
Friday, May 16, 2014
Millennials Might Be Ill-Equipped for the World, But It Isn't Our Fault
I am really super sick of all the smack talk about millennials. After reading an article about how millennials aren't active enough in the stock market, I am thinking really hard to recall when anyone taught me anything about how to engage in shareholding, and I am drawing a blank. Don't blame us for the crappy education system that thinks teaching us from pointless curricula like Springboard and Common Core that are both impossibly difficult and mind-numbingly mundane, instead of teaching us the value of the stock market, is a good idea. That was all on you all, you baby boomers and Gen X-ers. You raised us. It is on you, so here's a little letter from your progeny, summing up their frustrations on the whole thing.
Dear Baby Boomers and Gen X-ers,
Please stop mocking millennials for being inadequate or insufficient. It isn't helpful, it is shameful. We can't help what we are. You raised us to think we are all special so that we would fix all the problems that you will eventually leave us with (global warming, drought, corrupt government, a shrinking middle class - have I made my point?), and thus leaving us to believe that we were all miracle children and that success would come to us like the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. We don't work hard because you failed to teach us the merits of working hard, because you spoiled us. Stop blaming us for what you did and start helping us get where you want us to be.
Sincerely,
Your Disgruntled Legacy
Dear Baby Boomers and Gen X-ers,
Please stop mocking millennials for being inadequate or insufficient. It isn't helpful, it is shameful. We can't help what we are. You raised us to think we are all special so that we would fix all the problems that you will eventually leave us with (global warming, drought, corrupt government, a shrinking middle class - have I made my point?), and thus leaving us to believe that we were all miracle children and that success would come to us like the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. We don't work hard because you failed to teach us the merits of working hard, because you spoiled us. Stop blaming us for what you did and start helping us get where you want us to be.
Sincerely,
Your Disgruntled Legacy
Sunday, April 27, 2014
Sometimes, All It Takes is Getting Your Space...
The end of the school year is finally here, and what do I have to show for it? My car is - or soon will be - full to bursting, my bank account is starving for some funds, and all I want is to go home, breathe deep the brine of Puget Sound, and unwind in every humanly possible way. There is also the part where I totally would love to reunite with a few people, but that is a natural given.
Don't get me wrong. Bozeman is great. But lately, all I want is to get out of here and be with the people who have loved me for all this time. Because that is the great thing about real friends. You can stop talking for months at a time, and all of a sudden, they call you up and it is like only an hour has passed by.
And the thing about friends is that nothing is ever forced, something that not a lot of people get. So when I applied to be an RA, and let me preface this by saying I wanted absolutely nothing to do with this job in the first place, I wasn't really thinking I would have to force anything. Everyone kept telling me to be myself and that I would get the job for sure.
RA camp comes around when we all interact with one another, strangers though we might be, and the underlying expectation is that we make nice. Recall my INFJ article? I stands for Introvert - and one characteristic of introverts is that small talk is highly frowned upon, avoided, tolerated at best. When we had free time, and the expectation was to mingle, I sat and listened to the people around me. I had nothing meaningful to contribute to the conversation, so I left it alone. I didn't feel the need to interject.
The letters come a week later, informing us if we've been hired or not. I ran to my room, hoping I'd been pooled - meaning that they liked me, but they didn't have a place for me. I open the envelope, and there it is: they didn't want me period.
The reason this frustrates me so is because they stress so definitely how they don't want a set personality on staff, but as I continue to hear from other people their outcomes, a pattern emerges. Everyone who forces it, everyone who is willing to blindly do as they are told, they are the ones who get the job. I ask questions, I listen and wait for somewhere to enter a conversation in a meaningful way, and I don't blindly follow. I am not right for the job simply because I am not a blathering fool who can't self-motivate.
Do I sound bitter? Maybe I am. But the major thing, I think, is that I did not want to go through this arduous process in the first place, and was pushed into it anyway, only to be met with a "you aren't good enough". For one so prideful as I am, it stings. It burns to hear this. And all for something I had no desire to be a part of in the first place. There was no reward and no lesson other than "don't strive for things you don't want".
So I am going to go home this Saturday and I will remain in Washington for another three months to cool off and come back fresh and renewed, and hopefully those who told me I wasn't good enough enjoy their fools, for that is what they have gotten. I wash my hands of it all.
Don't get me wrong. Bozeman is great. But lately, all I want is to get out of here and be with the people who have loved me for all this time. Because that is the great thing about real friends. You can stop talking for months at a time, and all of a sudden, they call you up and it is like only an hour has passed by.
And the thing about friends is that nothing is ever forced, something that not a lot of people get. So when I applied to be an RA, and let me preface this by saying I wanted absolutely nothing to do with this job in the first place, I wasn't really thinking I would have to force anything. Everyone kept telling me to be myself and that I would get the job for sure.
RA camp comes around when we all interact with one another, strangers though we might be, and the underlying expectation is that we make nice. Recall my INFJ article? I stands for Introvert - and one characteristic of introverts is that small talk is highly frowned upon, avoided, tolerated at best. When we had free time, and the expectation was to mingle, I sat and listened to the people around me. I had nothing meaningful to contribute to the conversation, so I left it alone. I didn't feel the need to interject.
The letters come a week later, informing us if we've been hired or not. I ran to my room, hoping I'd been pooled - meaning that they liked me, but they didn't have a place for me. I open the envelope, and there it is: they didn't want me period.
The reason this frustrates me so is because they stress so definitely how they don't want a set personality on staff, but as I continue to hear from other people their outcomes, a pattern emerges. Everyone who forces it, everyone who is willing to blindly do as they are told, they are the ones who get the job. I ask questions, I listen and wait for somewhere to enter a conversation in a meaningful way, and I don't blindly follow. I am not right for the job simply because I am not a blathering fool who can't self-motivate.
Do I sound bitter? Maybe I am. But the major thing, I think, is that I did not want to go through this arduous process in the first place, and was pushed into it anyway, only to be met with a "you aren't good enough". For one so prideful as I am, it stings. It burns to hear this. And all for something I had no desire to be a part of in the first place. There was no reward and no lesson other than "don't strive for things you don't want".
So I am going to go home this Saturday and I will remain in Washington for another three months to cool off and come back fresh and renewed, and hopefully those who told me I wasn't good enough enjoy their fools, for that is what they have gotten. I wash my hands of it all.
Sunday, April 6, 2014
Sexuality and My Withering Patience
In a different and new way to attempt to understand human emotion, I have started watching "Sexplanations" on YouTube by Dr. Lindsay Doe of U. of Montana (OMG, Grizzlies = bad!).
"Oh my God, you really need to watch that?" Yes, I do.
"Seriously, what a creeper." Not really...sex is a natural thing after all.
"Are you sheltered?"
Yes, in fact, I am. You see, we live in a society that makes sexuality something very taboo - we don't talk about it, we make a mockery of it, and we refuse to teach our kids about it because that "invites sin". I really don't want to go on this rant because I get really frustrated and angry about how religion dictates how we go about our politics. Don't get me wrong, I am very religious - I just think there is a time and a place to be religious as there is a time and a place to be rational, just like there is a time and a place for emotion and a time and place for level heads. When it comes to preparing my future children for STDs, pregnancy, and broken hearts, I prefer to be rational, not religious. No sacrificial wine or crucifixes over my daughter's bed will prevent nature from taking course - a.k.a., if you feel like playing a game of chance, the sperm will eventually find its way to the egg, a curious boy will fall into the arms of a herpes-ridden hippie and wake up infected as well, and a girl desperate to prove herself to her boyfriend will find herself feeling cheap because she gave her virginity to him before she was emotionally ready, simply because he demanded it, because he felt she owed it to him.
But, no. It is too much. It is too much to teach our children the hard facts of life. We need to keep our secrets and face the consequences we could have avoided had we pulled our heads our of our asses. I was raised in a town where abstinence-only was demanded by the parents who thought it was inappropriate to be showing children what sex is, how to do it properly, and how to prevent both physical and emotional harm, as well as unplanned pregnancy.
But I told you I wasn't going to rant - or, at least, that I don't want to. This is about - and I say this risking sounding self-absorbed - about my emotional journey. I watched little videos about how the clitoris works and how the penis works and how attraction starts. I found out what style of love I generally adhere to (it is Storge, if you want to know, which is familial love, as opposed to Agape, selfless love, or Mania, the passionate love, and a few others.) I learned that consent is important, that fear of consequences is in no way a replacement for consent, and that consent comes in many more forms than the literal word, "yes" (though you should ALWAYS ask when you are first starting your relationship, or establish boundaries before entering scenarios when you will be impaired, i.e., as opposed to getting drunk and having sex, PLAN on getting drunk and then having sex before alcoholic consumption begins.) I learned that flirtation really is about reading the situation and the present body language, that maybe my doubts about the distances between me and the people I love really are the only thing hindering the progression of those relationships.
Dr. Doe gave me a more clear view of how I should view the sexual human experience. It isn't something to be ashamed of. It isn't something that we need to hide - it is one of our most natural functions and has so many more benefits than it has risks. And maybe that is the same with my emotions: maybe all these natural defenses might not be so productive, and maybe I need to get my head out of my ass and get out there. I must sound like a broken record, but I am hoping that talking about it, writing about it, helps in the long run.
One of these days, I will get around to writing you all a poem. That's the secondary reason for this blog anyways, isn't it? Right now, though, I have my book and school and I haven't been sleeping. Lots of stuff on my mind. In four weeks, you'll likely hear more from me. This semester cannot be done soon enough.
Oh my...
"Oh my God, you really need to watch that?" Yes, I do.
"Seriously, what a creeper." Not really...sex is a natural thing after all.
"Are you sheltered?"
Yes, in fact, I am. You see, we live in a society that makes sexuality something very taboo - we don't talk about it, we make a mockery of it, and we refuse to teach our kids about it because that "invites sin". I really don't want to go on this rant because I get really frustrated and angry about how religion dictates how we go about our politics. Don't get me wrong, I am very religious - I just think there is a time and a place to be religious as there is a time and a place to be rational, just like there is a time and a place for emotion and a time and place for level heads. When it comes to preparing my future children for STDs, pregnancy, and broken hearts, I prefer to be rational, not religious. No sacrificial wine or crucifixes over my daughter's bed will prevent nature from taking course - a.k.a., if you feel like playing a game of chance, the sperm will eventually find its way to the egg, a curious boy will fall into the arms of a herpes-ridden hippie and wake up infected as well, and a girl desperate to prove herself to her boyfriend will find herself feeling cheap because she gave her virginity to him before she was emotionally ready, simply because he demanded it, because he felt she owed it to him.
But, no. It is too much. It is too much to teach our children the hard facts of life. We need to keep our secrets and face the consequences we could have avoided had we pulled our heads our of our asses. I was raised in a town where abstinence-only was demanded by the parents who thought it was inappropriate to be showing children what sex is, how to do it properly, and how to prevent both physical and emotional harm, as well as unplanned pregnancy.
But I told you I wasn't going to rant - or, at least, that I don't want to. This is about - and I say this risking sounding self-absorbed - about my emotional journey. I watched little videos about how the clitoris works and how the penis works and how attraction starts. I found out what style of love I generally adhere to (it is Storge, if you want to know, which is familial love, as opposed to Agape, selfless love, or Mania, the passionate love, and a few others.) I learned that consent is important, that fear of consequences is in no way a replacement for consent, and that consent comes in many more forms than the literal word, "yes" (though you should ALWAYS ask when you are first starting your relationship, or establish boundaries before entering scenarios when you will be impaired, i.e., as opposed to getting drunk and having sex, PLAN on getting drunk and then having sex before alcoholic consumption begins.) I learned that flirtation really is about reading the situation and the present body language, that maybe my doubts about the distances between me and the people I love really are the only thing hindering the progression of those relationships.
Dr. Doe gave me a more clear view of how I should view the sexual human experience. It isn't something to be ashamed of. It isn't something that we need to hide - it is one of our most natural functions and has so many more benefits than it has risks. And maybe that is the same with my emotions: maybe all these natural defenses might not be so productive, and maybe I need to get my head out of my ass and get out there. I must sound like a broken record, but I am hoping that talking about it, writing about it, helps in the long run.
One of these days, I will get around to writing you all a poem. That's the secondary reason for this blog anyways, isn't it? Right now, though, I have my book and school and I haven't been sleeping. Lots of stuff on my mind. In four weeks, you'll likely hear more from me. This semester cannot be done soon enough.
Oh my...
Monday, March 24, 2014
INFJ and Other Myers Briggs Typology Nonsense
So, basically, this blog, besides posting ridiculously sappy poetry (sorry, not sorry), is about discovering my more emotional side, so I am going to talk about a recent activity that shed a lot of light on my emotional and mental construct.
I think everyone should take the Myers Briggs personality test. (http://www.humanmetrics.com/)
Not only does it help you uncover neat little tidbits about yourself, it opens up a whole can of worms on how you relate to other people and how you can/should improve on it. And, unlike the astrology mumbo-jumbo I used to be so into, it is actually very detailed and very, VERY spot on, because it is testing you on your social and psychological tendencies.
There are about 16 different outcomes based on four groupings: Extrovert (E) versus Introvert (I), Sensing (S) versus iNtuitive (N), Thinking (T) versus Feeling (F), and Judging (J) versus Perceiving (P). You can have any percentage of preference of one over the other - I have a 34% preference of F over T based on the answers I've given, for example. Any combination determines what kind of human you are, fit into four different categories: Rationals (NT), Idealists (NF), Guardians (SJ), and Artisans (SP).
I turned out to be INFJ. Funny part that I liked the most was that I am one of 1-3% of the tested human population that falls under this category. I am one in one hundred. It seems almost nice that I am so...unique. Of course, I get beyond having an ego moment, and, looking through the many descriptions of the INFJ, or the Counselor, as most behaviorists would dub me and my ilk, it seems readily accurate. I seek harmony among my peers, I strive for perfection and am constantly seeking self-improvement, and I desire more than anything meaning within my relationships and ideas. I like writing my ideas down more than speaking them (obviously) and I am extremely guarded with my inner feelings and opinions.
What struck me most was how clear-cut it was about how, despite the fact that I could be mistaken for an extrovert for how well I can camouflage in social settings, I am a true introvert and find it difficult to let people in. I am easily hurt, but I will never show it, even in my dearest relationships. When hurt enough, I do not outright confront someone, but will slowly back away from the relationship until the bond has been stretched to a breaking point. This tendency leads to a lot of hurt and confusion on the part of my peers.
I am still trying to take it all in, and I am immersing myself in the psychology of it all. It is mind-opening, but confusing and startling at the same time, despite having secretly known it all along. Again, I highly recommend it, and will continue my research into it.
JUST DO IT.
I think everyone should take the Myers Briggs personality test. (http://www.humanmetrics.com/)
Not only does it help you uncover neat little tidbits about yourself, it opens up a whole can of worms on how you relate to other people and how you can/should improve on it. And, unlike the astrology mumbo-jumbo I used to be so into, it is actually very detailed and very, VERY spot on, because it is testing you on your social and psychological tendencies.
There are about 16 different outcomes based on four groupings: Extrovert (E) versus Introvert (I), Sensing (S) versus iNtuitive (N), Thinking (T) versus Feeling (F), and Judging (J) versus Perceiving (P). You can have any percentage of preference of one over the other - I have a 34% preference of F over T based on the answers I've given, for example. Any combination determines what kind of human you are, fit into four different categories: Rationals (NT), Idealists (NF), Guardians (SJ), and Artisans (SP).
I turned out to be INFJ. Funny part that I liked the most was that I am one of 1-3% of the tested human population that falls under this category. I am one in one hundred. It seems almost nice that I am so...unique. Of course, I get beyond having an ego moment, and, looking through the many descriptions of the INFJ, or the Counselor, as most behaviorists would dub me and my ilk, it seems readily accurate. I seek harmony among my peers, I strive for perfection and am constantly seeking self-improvement, and I desire more than anything meaning within my relationships and ideas. I like writing my ideas down more than speaking them (obviously) and I am extremely guarded with my inner feelings and opinions.
What struck me most was how clear-cut it was about how, despite the fact that I could be mistaken for an extrovert for how well I can camouflage in social settings, I am a true introvert and find it difficult to let people in. I am easily hurt, but I will never show it, even in my dearest relationships. When hurt enough, I do not outright confront someone, but will slowly back away from the relationship until the bond has been stretched to a breaking point. This tendency leads to a lot of hurt and confusion on the part of my peers.
I am still trying to take it all in, and I am immersing myself in the psychology of it all. It is mind-opening, but confusing and startling at the same time, despite having secretly known it all along. Again, I highly recommend it, and will continue my research into it.
JUST DO IT.
Monday, March 3, 2014
The Disillusionment: Meeting More Bigots than I Can Handle
"Kind of sick of this whole "my religion is better than yours" game, a.k.a. American Founding Fathers were actually Deists, not Christians. Look your sh*t up before you claim America was founded on Christianity and tell me that because the Bible says so-and-so that it should be a federal law. Two words. SECULAR SOCIETY. Get with the 21st century and stop shoving your dogma in everyone else's face. It is getting really annoying really fast."
I am really wondering what would happen if I had posted this in my Facebook. Not going to lie, it would have been pretty entertaining for the people I would be directing this at. As for any innocent by-standers...I put off enough people by being as weird as I am. I don't need to start coming off as obnoxious on top of it.
This, for some background, is due to one specific person who I thought was a good friend. Then his girlfriend cheated on him, he became pretty depressed, and then she said sorry. This led to the notion that she deserved a second chance (no cheater EVER deserves a second chance) and now he thinks he has to compensate for a shitty girlfriend by being a religious freak. How do you become a religious freak?
Ellie's Guide to Becoming a Religious Freak
Step One: pressure your close friends to go to church with you every single Sunday without fail, no excuse, and if they don't, guilt them by telling them that their "souls need saving". Even the atheist ones. ESPECIALLY the atheist ones. (FYI, I am Episcopalian, for the record, and he never asked me to go to church because...
Step Two: Upon realization that another friend (this is where I come in) has dabbled in other religions (Wicca), tell them that "my opinion of you went from here" *hand held up high* "to here." *hand held significantly lower* Friend gets pissed off and doesn't feel like being around you anymore, but, hey, she doesn't revere God in the exact. damn. way. you. do. And that is baaaaaaaaad. So she's telling all your friends, who think a little more highly of her more rational and ethical personality than yours, that you are being an asshole. No big deal! Your soul is guaranteed a spot in heaven from all that church-going and witch-shaming you've been doing. Good job, fella.
Step Three: Post ASININE BULLSHIT about how you are significantly better at being Christian than everyone else. This includes reposting videos about God's saving grace, memes about how despite that you will defend your (non-existent) gay friends in the face of bullying, you don't believe they deserve the right to marriage (reason #1 why they are non-existent), and by making yourself out to be a generally better human being than everyone else despite the fact that your friends are slowly, but surely pulling their support away from beneath you.
Here is where this kid, by following these steps, will end up: friendless, angry, and stuck with a cheating bitch of an not-ex-girlfriend (yes, bud - she's still cheating on your ass, and no talk about her cystic ovaries is going to make that fact go away). All this will happen if he doesn't pull his large, seriously inflamed head out of his ass. Your religion doesn't make you a better person. It is WHAT YOU DO and WHO YOU ARE that make or break your chances of leaving a good memory on this earth.
In a few days, I will have no choice but to bitch-slap this kid and tell him what a moron he is being. I cannot stand the condescending glances, the "holier than thou" attitude, and this idea that he is so much smarter than me because he is choosing to save his soul - he, however, doesn't believe in evolution, thinks the Earth is 6,000 years old, and because Leviticus says that homosexuality is a sin (by the way, so is cooking beef with cheese, according to that - how was that cheeseburger last week, huh? And that mixed fiber cloth you wear all the time - polyester AND cotton? Break out the stones and stick him in the sand! We got ourselves a real sinner!) How can he possibly think he is the smarter one?
There is a New Testament for a reason: one that teaches us that it does not matter as long as you follow these two simple rules that Jesus laid out for us.
1. Love God above all things.
2. Love thy neighbor as thyself.
The New Testament is a creed which all Christians should live by, and really, that is all they should be thinking of abiding by. Just because you are so caught up in your insecurities about how manly or unmanly you are doesn't require that you vilify that guy in class who wears eyeliner and makes doe eyes at the dreamy male TA. He has feelings and needs and dreams (some of being MARRIED and being equal to his fellow man) and fears too.
So before you get you panties in a twist, just remember that before you start shoving your goddamn dogma in my face, you had better prepare yourself for having it slammed right back down your throat and out your ass. America is as much a Christian nation as it is a Zoroastrian nation or a Buddhist nation or a Wiccan nation. It belongs to all of us - that is the whole idea of America, the melting pot of cultures. If we start getting up on our high horses and proclaiming ourselves as better than another simply because we are different, then something has gone terribly wrong in the scheme of things.
Final word: get your religion out of our politics, and maybe we can all settle our social rights war with a little less personal hatred in the mix. Capisce?
I am really wondering what would happen if I had posted this in my Facebook. Not going to lie, it would have been pretty entertaining for the people I would be directing this at. As for any innocent by-standers...I put off enough people by being as weird as I am. I don't need to start coming off as obnoxious on top of it.
This, for some background, is due to one specific person who I thought was a good friend. Then his girlfriend cheated on him, he became pretty depressed, and then she said sorry. This led to the notion that she deserved a second chance (no cheater EVER deserves a second chance) and now he thinks he has to compensate for a shitty girlfriend by being a religious freak. How do you become a religious freak?
Ellie's Guide to Becoming a Religious Freak
Step One: pressure your close friends to go to church with you every single Sunday without fail, no excuse, and if they don't, guilt them by telling them that their "souls need saving". Even the atheist ones. ESPECIALLY the atheist ones. (FYI, I am Episcopalian, for the record, and he never asked me to go to church because...
Step Two: Upon realization that another friend (this is where I come in) has dabbled in other religions (Wicca), tell them that "my opinion of you went from here" *hand held up high* "to here." *hand held significantly lower* Friend gets pissed off and doesn't feel like being around you anymore, but, hey, she doesn't revere God in the exact. damn. way. you. do. And that is baaaaaaaaad. So she's telling all your friends, who think a little more highly of her more rational and ethical personality than yours, that you are being an asshole. No big deal! Your soul is guaranteed a spot in heaven from all that church-going and witch-shaming you've been doing. Good job, fella.
Step Three: Post ASININE BULLSHIT about how you are significantly better at being Christian than everyone else. This includes reposting videos about God's saving grace, memes about how despite that you will defend your (non-existent) gay friends in the face of bullying, you don't believe they deserve the right to marriage (reason #1 why they are non-existent), and by making yourself out to be a generally better human being than everyone else despite the fact that your friends are slowly, but surely pulling their support away from beneath you.
Here is where this kid, by following these steps, will end up: friendless, angry, and stuck with a cheating bitch of an not-ex-girlfriend (yes, bud - she's still cheating on your ass, and no talk about her cystic ovaries is going to make that fact go away). All this will happen if he doesn't pull his large, seriously inflamed head out of his ass. Your religion doesn't make you a better person. It is WHAT YOU DO and WHO YOU ARE that make or break your chances of leaving a good memory on this earth.
In a few days, I will have no choice but to bitch-slap this kid and tell him what a moron he is being. I cannot stand the condescending glances, the "holier than thou" attitude, and this idea that he is so much smarter than me because he is choosing to save his soul - he, however, doesn't believe in evolution, thinks the Earth is 6,000 years old, and because Leviticus says that homosexuality is a sin (by the way, so is cooking beef with cheese, according to that - how was that cheeseburger last week, huh? And that mixed fiber cloth you wear all the time - polyester AND cotton? Break out the stones and stick him in the sand! We got ourselves a real sinner!) How can he possibly think he is the smarter one?
There is a New Testament for a reason: one that teaches us that it does not matter as long as you follow these two simple rules that Jesus laid out for us.
1. Love God above all things.
2. Love thy neighbor as thyself.
The New Testament is a creed which all Christians should live by, and really, that is all they should be thinking of abiding by. Just because you are so caught up in your insecurities about how manly or unmanly you are doesn't require that you vilify that guy in class who wears eyeliner and makes doe eyes at the dreamy male TA. He has feelings and needs and dreams (some of being MARRIED and being equal to his fellow man) and fears too.
So before you get you panties in a twist, just remember that before you start shoving your goddamn dogma in my face, you had better prepare yourself for having it slammed right back down your throat and out your ass. America is as much a Christian nation as it is a Zoroastrian nation or a Buddhist nation or a Wiccan nation. It belongs to all of us - that is the whole idea of America, the melting pot of cultures. If we start getting up on our high horses and proclaiming ourselves as better than another simply because we are different, then something has gone terribly wrong in the scheme of things.
Final word: get your religion out of our politics, and maybe we can all settle our social rights war with a little less personal hatred in the mix. Capisce?
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
Serendipity is a Funny Thing
I think I am going to let this one stand alone. No explanation, no nothing. But it is in lieu of something I totally saw coming...
The Odometer Reads Sideways Infinity
800 miles.
That is what I traveled.
Through stone and snow and pine, I drove my heart,
an angry fire screaming down the path of quiet sorrow
inflamed in desire for your secluded love.
A red-hot core burning through my bone and brine moaned
and creaked for you, like a house yet filled, swelling and shrinking
in the winter's chill, a hope enshrouded in graveyards and fences.
800 miles.
A drink, a whisper, a secret smile, and your hand is on
the small of my back - that sweet dip that beckons imagination,
that slopes into dark dreams and beautiful answers to anxious questions.
I lead you away from roaring crushes and milling crowds,
from the prying eyes of your friends who dare to flirt,
who could not know how deep this curiosity goes.
Your urgency follows me into the night as
you lead me off to a place of lonely music and warmth.
800 miles.
A cup of tea is a cup of trust -
you know I would not lead you here if I did not want more.
You kissed me, a happy rule broken into a promise made.
My head lies in the soft cloud of pillows and sighs as
your hands span my body, lovely cartographers,
and your strong body eclipses the fervent shudders of mine.
You pull at my hair, a briar patch in which you lose your mind.
I claw, scream into sheets in which you will undoubtedly smell my musk
weeks after I depart your embrace, hoping
that our dream will not die.
Morning comes, a somber reminder of the real world, and
I slip away, not knowing where you stand.
I do not say good-bye, but touch your shoulder,
silent, reverent farewell.
After a night of travel and one more of your love, I,
bleary-eyed, look at my odometer. 800 miles.
This is how far I went to find you and make you mine.
800 miles is how much further, if not more, I would go to keep you.
The Odometer Reads Sideways Infinity
800 miles.
That is what I traveled.
Through stone and snow and pine, I drove my heart,
an angry fire screaming down the path of quiet sorrow
inflamed in desire for your secluded love.
A red-hot core burning through my bone and brine moaned
and creaked for you, like a house yet filled, swelling and shrinking
in the winter's chill, a hope enshrouded in graveyards and fences.
800 miles.
A drink, a whisper, a secret smile, and your hand is on
the small of my back - that sweet dip that beckons imagination,
that slopes into dark dreams and beautiful answers to anxious questions.
I lead you away from roaring crushes and milling crowds,
from the prying eyes of your friends who dare to flirt,
who could not know how deep this curiosity goes.
Your urgency follows me into the night as
you lead me off to a place of lonely music and warmth.
800 miles.
A cup of tea is a cup of trust -
you know I would not lead you here if I did not want more.
You kissed me, a happy rule broken into a promise made.
My head lies in the soft cloud of pillows and sighs as
your hands span my body, lovely cartographers,
and your strong body eclipses the fervent shudders of mine.
You pull at my hair, a briar patch in which you lose your mind.
I claw, scream into sheets in which you will undoubtedly smell my musk
weeks after I depart your embrace, hoping
that our dream will not die.
Morning comes, a somber reminder of the real world, and
I slip away, not knowing where you stand.
I do not say good-bye, but touch your shoulder,
silent, reverent farewell.
After a night of travel and one more of your love, I,
bleary-eyed, look at my odometer. 800 miles.
This is how far I went to find you and make you mine.
800 miles is how much further, if not more, I would go to keep you.
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