Monday, December 28, 2009

Insanity at its Sanest

May 22 16:37
I'm 90% sure I just saw Santa drive by- 'cept instead of a sleigh, he was in a beat up ford.
16:37 Ps all I've eaten today is 3 energy drinks and a can of pringles, so I could be wrong.

Jun 03 09:25 I just saw a woman walk into the liquor store and get a cart. It's 9:30 on a wednesday. I WANT TO BE HER....

Jun 05 18:43 Aww well thanks for thinking of me! I think of you AT ALL TIMES.
(I think this was in response to me saying I would not get you shot glasses from LA because LAX can burn in a fiery pit.)

Jun 14 10:53 Bad way to kill a Hornet in your bedroom: wrap it up in a curtain and beat it with a mug. Good way to kill a half-dead, pissed off hornet: wrap it in duct tape
10:54 and set it on fire.

Jun 15 18:09 So I'm definitely tipsy... but the kind of tipsy where I want to be dancing furiously, not causing a problem kind of tipsy. i hate being on the train right now.

(half an hour later)
Jun 15 18:33 I FEEL FANTASTIC RIGHT NOW.



These are some texts that I've sent Claudia.

Because being friends with me means being friends with an INSANE PERSON.

...you should probably be friends with me.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

...we haven't met yet

I haven't been feeling like a good person the last couple of days.


Working in Customer Service during Christmas has really drained my everything. Snow no longer means "yay! day off! woohoo!" it means insane customers yelling at me because we've run out of snowboots. Jingle Bell Rock loses it's meaning after it's 300th repetition. Spiced Cider isn't a delicious beverage, it's a jar candle we sell for $9.99, but it's on sale this week for $3.49. I have nightmares every night about work. I had an internet stalker who moonlights as a mall santa.


Christmas eve is tomorrow, and I just don't care.


In middle school, I was that kid that wore red and green for a month and wore santa hats the week leading up to christmas. Same in high school and college, but a bit more toned down.


I also found out that Whole Foods starts its employees at $10 an hour. I started at $7.50.


Customer Service has turned me into a total cynic. I make the Grinch look like Mother-fucking-Theresa (pre-heart growing). I hate when musicians make Christmas songs because I know it's just a ploy to sell more albums. All these little punk-rock Christmas songs are a way to get people to download their music. No one makes a Christmas song because they just LOVE Christmas. It's the most commercial holiday ever. At least Valentine's Day doesn't try to deny it - it knows it's a total Hallmark Holiday.


Customer Service has turned me into a difficult person to be around. I'm honestly feeling myself grow a little colder. I don't know how to have a conversation where I'm not talking about how much I hate work. When I'm not at work, all I want to do is talk to my internet friends or sleep. This isn't healthy.

All I can hope is that after Christmas, things will be a lot better for me. Maybe a little less tweakin' out. Maybe a little more stability.
...okay, that's not gonna happen. Let's try something more realistic - I hope that come February, things get a little easier for me.



I'm not a negative person though, I never have been. One of my favorite things about me has always been my positivity. I could always see the good in every situation, the best in every person, the heart of every soul. Now, I just see people as how difficult they're going to be when they approach my customer service counter. I feel gross and fat and overworked and underpaid and the bags under my eyes have bags and I'm breaking out and oh my god poor me I'm so sad.

Fuck, I'm even cynical about how cynical I am. ...that's no good.

Anyway, I miss the positive side of me. I desperately need to find that positive part of me again.
I have a few ideas of how to find Positive Alex again though.
a) find a boyfriend
b) become an alcoholic
c) punch a baby
d) become an alcoholic
e) all of the above

...what, do you have other suggestions?

that's what I thought. :-)

Friday, December 11, 2009

My Christmas List

Christmas!

Now that I have a few days off from work, I can actually care about it. It's hard to be excited for Christmas when it's a cause for people to get really, really nasty.

So, let's talk about what I want for christmas!!

Verizon Droid Phone



I just totally want it. My phone blows mad dicks, I'm so excited for an upgrade.

Legend Of Zelda - Spirit Tracks



I LOVE Legend of Zelda. Like... somuchyoudon'tevenknow.

Chuck Palahniuk - Haunted

This is one of my favorite books, and I think someone stole it from me or I lost it. This makes me cry everywhere.

Rob Sheffield - Love is a MixTape

This is one of the best books I've ever read. I cried throughout the whole thing... which wasn't good, because I read it when I was working at the library... while at work. ...kind of embarrassing.

iPod Touch

Do I really have to explain this one? So awesome.

Neil Gaiman - Coraline

This book is amazing! I read it before the film came out and was stunned.

The Warm Touch of Another

Woah okay where did that come from? Get that out of there! why won't my backspace/delete button work! ahh!


Wellk, if yoiu want to buy me cjhristmas presents (sorry, bcakspace is broken, can't fix typos), let me know and I'll totally give you my mailing adress - assuming you DON'T FUCKING CREEP ME. ...more on that to come.

THAKN YOU AND GOODNIGHT.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Alex's Adventures in Retail (2)

I totally made a guys day yesterday :-)
Not in the pervy way, pervs.

An older (probably late forties or mid fifties) man came up to my customer service counter hoping that we had a hoodie in a different size and color. We didn't have it, but I called up one of the other stores to see if they did. While on hold for thirty-seven years, the customer and I had a really great conversation.

See, within four seconds I could tell that he was gay, so I was immediately more comfortable with him. Especially once he said that he was wearing a girls hoodie under his jacket, I knew I was fine.

I made no indication that I, too, was gay, because it didn't warrant in the situation. I don't run around talking about how gay I am. I think some of my coworkers know... I think others want me to date Dani.

Anyways, we got talking about how I went to college and what I want to do with it, which is couples therapy. Twice now I've been asked if I'd be comfortable working with "all types of couples". Each time I'm asked this, they're always wondering if I'm comfortable working with gay couples. When this guy asked, I said "Absolutely. A couple is a couple, and if they have issues, then I've no problem working with them."

He got a really big smile on his face.

He got happy because he heard someone say "I don't see the difference. There is no difference between gay and straight couples." These things are commonplace in people my age, but I think the older generation needs to hear it more often. Of course, I think this man thought I was heterosexual, which is strange considering my purple flannel and sweatervest, but I'm kind of that right-in-the-middle kind of gay where you're like "...well is he or isn't he?" So this man probably wasn't sure, but seemed to be thrilled to have someone work with him that understood him. We never could get the other store to help out (the men's associate on duty couldn't get off of the register) but I did the best I could, and in the end the customer was satisfied.

We need more straight male allies though. So many straight men are afraid to come forward in support because in the straight male community, that marks you as gay yourself, which is negative. Straight men have just as many if not more social guidelines as gay men. Straight men get football, Gay men get Lady Gaga. Sure, there's some crossover... well, Gay men can cross over. Heck, it's a turn on if a gay man likes sports for something other than tight abs and short shorts. If a straight man likes Lady Gaga because her music has a great beat.... GAY. Sure, I get yelled at for not liking Madonna and not knowing the choreography to every Britney Spears song, but in the long run no gay is going to mark me as an outcast because I've never seen To Wong Fu, Thanks for Everything Julie Newmar and don't particularly want to. Straight men have very strict social guidelines and heaven forbid they be breached in any way. That's why it's so rare to see a straight man come out in support of the homosexual community, and whenever it happens, we have this bad habit of worshiping them... and they kind of deserve it.

Thank you, heterosexual community, for without your support, we'd just be dog-fuckers.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Alex's Adventures in Retail

Wow! I have ten followers! I am truly flattered! :-)

I'm so sorry I haven't blogged in like eight years. I just started this new retail job. I'm working customer service at Kohl's.

Kohl's, by the way, is an amazing store. It really, really is. I absolutely love the store, the products, the return policy, and especially my managers and coworkers. My store has the absolute most amazing group of people committed to the store, the customers, and most importantly, each other. I've made a couple friends here that I know I will have as friends for life.


The customers, however, are the dumbest, rudest, dishonest, confused, and disheartening group of people I've ever worked with.

Okay, that's not true. Approximately 80% of the customers are not a problem. They're kind, they're patient, and they understand if something isn't going to work out quite how they expected or hoped. Of that 80%, 24% or so are downright amazing (20% of 100%). They laugh, they smile, they joke, sometimes they even help me do my job correctly. A good chunk of this 24% is made up of husbands who couldn't give less of a fuck about what happens, because "[they're] the patient, [I'm] the doctor," what happens happens, and they'll take what they can get. They're sent by their wives who they wish would just shut the fuck up. They're thrilled to be out of the house, and can't even believe how quick, easy, and painless it is to do returns at Kohl's. I love husbands!

But for every easy-to-please husband and jovial middle-aged housewife, we have a horrible customer. That last 20% of people are horrible, horrible people.
It's the woman who, no matter how many times you explain it to her, insists that she get the full return price of the item, despite getting a 30% discount of her original purchase.
It's the Indian woman (I'm sorry, they always are) who buys a bunch of items with a gift card and then tries to return them for cash, and gets upset when I have to return it as in-store credit.
It's the eighty-year old woman who comes in four times in the same week to scream at me about rebates and credit fraud, accepting no answer as a correct answer despite having spoken to several managers.
It's the Indian man (I'm sorry, they always are) who wants to return receiptless, tagless, washed and worn pants purchased in 2003 that reek of curry and mothballs.
It's the 27 year old mother of two toddlers who returns clearly heavily worn shoes.
It's the 60 year old man who returns a watch that stopped working... a watch he purchased 25 years ago.

I'm not going to tell you if we were able to help these people or not, because I don't want you turning into them. It's very tempting to become a total asshole. The people behind the customer service desk are real people. We're real people with real lives... and quite frankly, we don't care about you. I know it's the harsh truth - we just don't care about you. Think about it - we're a corporation. We care about your money - of course we'll bend over backwards for you. We want to get paid. Of course, this "caring" trickles down to us, in customer service. We're trained to genuinely care about you, so that you keep coming back, and corporate headquarters can genuinely care about your money.

Me? I care. Everyone else at customer service cares too. That's the scary part - we really do. Who we care for, though, are the 80% that help make our day a little better. The 80% of you that understand that we're not your bitch, and that we are there to do our jobs the best we possibly can, we applaud you, and take care of you with all the enthusiasm we're able to muster. I feel bad when I've had a bad customer, and it's left me so discouraged that I can't great and treat you with proper enthusiasm and positivity. That happened to me today - after an onslaught of cruel customers clearly sent from Hades to make my day a living hell, we had a few customers who really were a delight to work with, but the most I could muster up was a half-hearted hello and a forged smile.

If you're one of those petty patrons out to be a downer on my day, don't. Stay at home - take out your soreness and spite on some other soul, but leave mine out of it. My job entails getting shit on for eight hours a day, I don't need your beef on top of it.


The next time you go into a retail place - JCPenny's, Macy's, Wal*Mart, Target, Kohl's, etc., I want you to do something for me. I want you to go to their customer service counter, and I want you to say:

"I just want to say that you're doing an amazing job. Keep your head up, okay?"

Sometimes, that's all we need to hear.

Friday, November 20, 2009

The Feathered Boa doesn't hurt...




The Daily Show With Jon StewartMon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Gaywatch - Peter Vadala & William Phillips
http://www.thedailyshow.com/
Daily Show
Full Episodes
Political HumorHealth Care Crisis




This clip made me cry.

Why, you ask? It's clearly meant to be quite humorous.

Well let me tell you something.

When I was a ten year old boy, being pushed around and called a "Gaywad", I would have done anything to have a huge man like Mick Foley threaten my classmates. This little boy has the media on his side because he stood up for something that doesn't even affect him - I, on the other hand, hid from the bullying and cried and let it tear me down.

Basically, in this clip from the Daily Show, Jon Stewart and Mick Foley, two grown, adult, straight males, not only defend gay rights, but also take a stand against bullying of any sort.

This is definitely cry-worthy.

(Sorry for the horrible formatting around the video - whatever embedding code the video provides is fucked six ways to sunday, so I had to go back to the source code from the original page where I found the video, and poke around until I found the right code.)

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Sweet Dreams are made of This

So the Dream Roundup from last night is one of the most interesting ones in a while - I can't cover the whole thing on Twitter or Facebook alone, so it gets it's own blog post.

In the first dream, I'd taken up Customer Service at Target, which was apparently around the corner from my house. As this dream progressed, it seamlessly turned from Target into an Adoption agency. I dunno. But anyways, I was late coming back from one of my breaks because Ali and I went to the local yard sales to buy Christmas cards. I had to write out a handwritten apology to management for coming back so late.

This was not the stranger dream.

I only remember about the second half of dream two. I think I was doing something interplanetary, I'm not sure, but I eventually got an invitation to use a warp hole thingie to go to another planet - but in order to do so, I had to pass through the ring with a mind clear of thought. No problem. I think I've been to this planet in another dream though, because I have a memory of going there and realizing the inhabitants were delicious and eating a bunch of them. It's not my fault that some of their species are made of Sloppy Joes! (for you Canadian/other types of international readers, just Wikipedia it.) So this time when I went down, I promised I'd abide by their vegetarian lifestyle for the duration of my stay... though I did bring a turkey sandwich that I ate, but at least it was an earth animal and not one of them.
So, after a song and dance routine (yes, we had a song and dance routine, and yes, I embarrassingly forgot some of the words) I learned that these delicious aliens were about to be attacked by a different tribe of non-delicious aliens. A non-delicious alien named Zoltar had come to let us know, and wanted to be on our side. I offered to help in this fight, since Zoltar's race of people were about a foot tall, and I could just kick them really far.
Well, it turned out to be even easier, because the delicious aliens used toothpicks with marshmallows on the ends as weapons, and the non-delicious aliens are apparently susceptible to this.
So, after some adorable marshmallow pokes and a barrage of kicking, we determined that it was time for me to go home. I offered for some of the delicious aliens to come with me, but the second we arrived back on earth at Scotland's interplanetary airport, he was eaten up. ...whoops.


I have such strange freakin' dreams, but I wouldn't change it for anything. I'm clearly having more fun while sleeping than most people! :-)

Monday, November 16, 2009

Heteronormative

So I think there's this big misconception that gay guys either hate straight men or want to fuck them.

That's not 100% true, but there is an aspect of truth to it.

You see, gay men and women don't make fun of us for being gay. For the most part, straight women don't either. Straight men, however, are generally the ones making fun of gay people for being gay. Sure, not all of you do it, but it's still members of your population. It'd be like if only some bears eat people, but you're never sure which bears eat people, or which will say they don't eat people to your face but then have a people-roast behind your back when hanging out with other bears.

Maybe I shouldn't have used "Bears," I might have just made that paragraph really confusing.

"But you're taking out specific frustrations on the whole of a population" a straight person may say. We all do it, it's nature. It's conditioning. I had a black teacher once who told me that she legit has a phobia of white men in business suits because one time, she got fired by three of them for being "too ambitious." (Frankly, I think they were just trying to let her down easy - this woman was dumb az.) There was a man that once brought a gun into a gay bar and killed a good chunk of the patrons. Why? His last name was "Gay", and because of how the term is used today, all of his sons changed their last name, which upset this man to the point that he shot up a gay bar. Because, you know, it's our fault. (Personally, I very rarely say I'm "Gay" - I say "I like guys" or "I'm into dudes," something like that, unless people are very confused. Yes, people get confused. "So wait... you're bi?" "...no, like all-the-way gay." "Really?" "...yes? You... didn't know?" "...huh. no, I guess not." Some people can tell from a mile away, some have no idea. Maybe those people just think I'm weird.)

And about gay guys having this obsession with wanting to fuck a straight guy?
Don't get me wrong, I've crushed on a few of my straight friends - but not because they're straight. It's because of who they are. I like their personalities, or I think they're really pretty. It's sort of like the concept that men and women can't be friends because that sexual attraction will always be there - except you can think of it more like a straight guy being friends with an ugly chick. Sure, she may be attracted to him, but he'll never be into her so you just don't worry about it. Now, there are some gay men that feel that all straight guys are just closet cases just dying to come out, but trust me, it's all just wishful thinking. (Bee tee dubs, I am not one of those guys.) However, you can see why we're sometimes hesitant to get close to a straight guy - we don't want to fall for you and know we'll get rejected before we even think of making a move.

So, straight guys - we don't hate you! ...we just find you kind of intimidating. We don't know if you'll hate on us or if we'll fall in love with you. But for the most part, we don't always know what to talk about with you guys. I don't know if I'm supposed to stifle how gay I am, if I can talk about guys I like or ex-boyfriends or celebs I think are attractive. I can talk about this stuff with my girl friends, but I always have this nagging thought of "does this maybe actually gross him out?"
Because you see, in a heteronormative society, talking about guys you think are hot is "flaunting [our] homosexuality in [your] faces." If we kiss in public, it's flaunting our gayness. Holding hands. Buying the Rent special edition DVD. Ordering a vodka cranberry. It's all flaunting our gayness.
Of course, chances are, if you're a straight guy and reading this blog on purpose, then you probably don't feel that way at all, however there is a large faction of the country that does.

Do you wanna know what it's like being in our world though?

I was at a bar the other night with a friend of mine who also likes guys. This was not in any sense of the word, a gay bar. Let me show you a picture I took on my shitty phone!

Who's flaunting what-now? Yes, those are LED stripper poles. Yes, that's five drunk girls and what appears to be an alien with a glow-stick necklace. Mind you, my favorite bar band Go Go Gadjet was playing, which is the main reason I was at this bar in the first place... but this was drunk couple was flaunting their heterosexuality all up in my face. Of course by that I mean they were heavily making out, knocking into everyone around them, especially me, and nearly knocked me in the face with a beer bottle. They were so on top of me it might have been considered a threesome in some cultures. Later, they did this awkward to-the-floor back-bend makeout thing. Luckily, all the straight people around me were just as "WTF???" as I was. Yet here I was, making sure not to dance too much in order not to flaunt my homosexuality. When Go Go Gadjet started playing a few familiar chords, they said "We'd like to apologize to you if you have a penis. I mean, don't get us wrong, we love having penises. But if you have a penis, you will hate us." As they sang Party in the USA, they changed a few words around. Yeah, yeah, yeah-yeah, it's a Party in the USA. Yeah, yeah, yeah-yeah, this song makes me feel gay. I'm sure they didn't mean to offend anyone... they probably don't know that me, their biggest fan, is gay. ...then again, I sang along to the whole thing... so maybe they do know. Not the point. The point is that heterosexuality is constantly flaunted in our faces, so people can stop pretending like they're innocent.

I can't count the number of times I've heard "I don't care what you do or who you are, as long as you don't do it around me." What the hell kind of an attitude is that? I'll tell you what. That's the face of tolerance, people. Yes, I'm serious - that's "tolerance". Can you imagine telling a straight guy that he can't ever talk about girls or football in front of me, but I don't care what he does at home?

Long story short, there's a reason that sometimes we're a little awkward around you guys. Society has taught us that we're kinda supposed to fear or respect you or something. We're taught that Heterosexuality is superior to Homosexuality, and therefore we should be humbled to even be allowed in your presence. Granted, there's a good chance you don't actually feel that way... but that doesn't mean it's not ingrained in our heads.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

Passive-Aggression 101



My new goal is to be a complete dick on facebook.





Oh man, I wish I could take credit for that one, but Tyler beat me to it.
(Britni is a big girl, so this is hysterical.)

Okay, so I'm a total dick. But I'm sorry, if people are going to do stupid shit on facebook, isn't it only fair for people to call them out on it? seriously.

Saturday, November 7, 2009

Dating Advice:

Girls: He just might be out of your league. Don't bother.

Guys: Let women figure out why they won't sleep with you, don't do it for them.

Gay Men and Women: You guys are stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Make better decisions.

::edit::

okay so I know I posted this five seconds ago, but I realized it might maybe make me sound like a dick.
...which I kind of am.
But I'm like a really nice dick, wrapped up in a tortilla of awesome.

So let me elaborate.

I've had the misfortune in high school of having some very unfortunate looking girls tell me about their crushes on football players. I mean really unfortunate looking. I was president of the japanese club. Trust me on this one.

They'd ask them out, and be bitterly upset when rejected. And their friends just let them do it. Shouldn't they know better? I mean nothing against the unfortunate girls, y'all can't control it... but don't go for football players! You should probably know better.

I remember one time, my friend Sherry* gave this girl Megatron* my screenname.
(*names changed)

Megatron wanted to let me know that she was into me. And by "into me" I mean "repeatedly tell me I was sexy".

Megatron was one of these unfortunate looking girls. Granted, I'm not the most fortunate looking guy on the planet, but really? Not only that, but Sherry knew that I was gay. Why didn't she let Megatron know? Why do girls constantly egg each other on, allowing them to ask out people that are way out of their leagues. It just sets them up for heartache. Isn't that was the movie He's Just not that into You was about? Stop it. Get real!

Next, I've seen a lot of guys give up on a girl in five seconds flat. And I don't mean out-of-their-league girls, I mean they would actually probably work out pretty well. Of course, I'm not talking about your typical bro who thinks he can get every girl, there's a good chance that my male friends have a lot less gumption than your male friends.

As for my gay friends of which I do not have many of, and yes, I'm including myself, I feel like we have this talent of combining all these problems into one huge lump of stupid. That bit of dating advice was as much for myself as anyone else.
We all assume that everyone is out of our leagues, yet we fall for them anyway. We ask out people that totally suck and ignore guys that could potentially be way into us. Because we're stupid, stupid, stupid. Stupid.

Friday, November 6, 2009

Let's make a Verbal Agreement to only kiss Each other

You know, it's a very strange thing getting older.
Sure, I'm only 22... but isn't aging weird?
I mean, we clearly don't all age the same way.
If we did, all 22 year olds would act and feel one way, and all 33 year olds would feel a different way.

But we all know that's not true.

We're all fucking messes.

My friend Dan who used to be my boss Dan has known me since I started college, and one day he told me that I wasn't the same "doe-eyed alex" he met as a freshman.
Do you ever wonder if you've already been the best you'll ever be? If it's all downhill from here?
Maybe freshman me was the best me - doe-eyed, confused, adorable.
Now I have all the answers - yes, all of them. ...are my eyes dead?
Sometimes I feel a little dead. A little fake. A little Narcissistic. A little Histrionic. A few other problems in there.
Other times I feel like I'm the only one that knows how to feel, how to think, how to... be.
I know that's silly... but it happens.

I can only hope I'm doing this right.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Vote No on One

::sigh::

As you guys probably know by now, we've won domestic partnerships in Washington, but lost equal marriage in Maine.

This was my reaction:



Sad, but I mean... am I surprised? No. We don't live in the most tolerant of nations, for those that haven't noticed. I wish I was more angry, but in all reality, the only thing I'm feeling is disappointed. That's really the only reaction any of us can have at this point, isn't it? Every goddamn year it's the same thing, we just get farther and farther away from equality.

Something everyone needs to understand right now though, is that we're not fighting the same fight. We're not.

In their mind, we are a subversive subculture that's weird and we're doing this because we hate our parents. In their mind, outlawing same-sex marriage will make us say "Wow, I guess I should really marry a woman and make millions of milkshakes babies." In their mind, two men together is actually just as strange as a man with a dog. In their minds, hitting a gay man with a bat because he's gay is the same as hitting a rich man with a bat because you want his money.

It's sort of like how someone who doesn't drink and is against drinking assumes that one beer means you're wasted, and if you have more than one beer a week you are an alcoholic. Or how your friends that weigh 115 lbs can't understand why you, at 200 lbs need a bit more food than they do. "It's just twitter."

We're not fighting the same battle. These people that don't get us likely never will - there's a reason they're still so full of intolerance and ignorance. Sometimes there's just nothing we can do about it. There will always be that guy that says "well if you're so pro-gay then you must be a lesbian!" And then you have to halt your intelligent argument to explain how you can be a heterosexual ally.

In reference to the civil rights movement from 1955 to 1968, this isn't the same fight either. It is, however, an extreme parallel. Just like how black people didn't have a chance until white people finally started realizing the error of their ways, Gay people won't go anywhere with this movement without the support of Straight people. They fought to get water fountains in the first place, then they fought to use the same ones as white people. We're fighting for civil unions/domestic partnerships as a first step - we will get marriage, it just may take a little bit more time. They fought to be seen as equals, we're fighting to be seen as equals.

There are a few differences though.

Black people had to fight for the right to marry white people. We don't really wanna marry straight people, I feel like it wouldn't work out well. As far as I'm aware though, during the civil rights movement, black people were still allowed to marry each other. We're not allowed to marry each other right now. Hmm, actually, we're allowed to marry straight people, as long as they're the opposite gender. So maybe that argument gets thrown out.

People can always tell that you're black. People can't always tell that you're gay. We can hide... but why would we? Sure, to them, being gay is the same as being a pedophile, or needing to choke yourself to get off - why would you tell people about that? To us, it's not a "lifestyle" - that implies that on weekends, we dance to Madonna and snort poppers in the hopes of catching aids, but on the weekdays we're mild-mannered accountants. I'm homosexual in the same way that you're heterosexual - I want to fall in love, get married, grow old, maybe have kids somewhere in there. And I want to do it in my hometown of Philadelphia. I want to be 70 years old and crawl into the same bed with the same guy that I've been crawling into bed with for the past 30-40 years, and nag him for not taking out the trash - again!
We are a real group of people, a real minority, with real problems. And we're no different than you.

Also, almost every black child grows up with a black parent. When the other kids make fun of them for being black, they come home to their black mom and/or black dad and can cry, and their black mom and/or black dad understands what they're going through, because they've been through it before.

Every Gay child grows up alone.

I didn't have anyone to understand why I was crying. I didn't have gay moms and/or gay dads to tell me why the other kids were calling me "fairy" and "daisy" and "queer". I didn't have gay moms and/or gay dads to support my decision to take Home Economics instead of Shop. I didn't have gay moms and/or gay dads to support me when I had my first breakup, or my second, or my third. I didn't have gay moms and/or gay dads who understood my gay problems.

I still don't.

My parents don't like gay people. They think it's gross. I think they think I'm asexual. From what I've been told by my friends that know Chris, my younger brother, he knows, and he blames my occasional bitchiness on it (not, of course, on the fact that we've been fighting since he was born.)

This is one of the reasons I don't really "get" families - I've had to build a wall up between myself and my family. It's safer that way. I don't know what would happen if I told them. Would they learn to think differently? Or would I be kicked out of the house? Would I be disowned? I'm too afraid to find out.

These aren't things black children have to grow up worrying about. Their black parents won't disown them for being black. Being Black won't cause them to be the black sheep of the family.

...so to speak.

I'm not saying they aren't similar fights. They are. But there are some differences that tell me we a whole lot to fight for.

But people will always hate us, no matter what we do. And that just disappoints me. I'd rather people hate me because of the bad things I do, rather than the people I love.



I met a protester once who told me that what she was doing was out of love, not hate. How do you tell someone that you don't want their love? How do you tell someone that their idea of love is a wrongful, misguided idea of love? I'll always respect their conviction, but what they don't understand is that we're not capable of change... but the world around us is. What we are doing is not wrong, neither in our own eyes or in the eyes of the law. We must be treated equally, with equal protection rights and equal marriage rights. One day, we'll look back on all this and laugh. In the meantime, the most we can do is shake our heads.

Sunday, November 1, 2009

A History Lesson...

I've learned some very interesting things in my time that have shattered certain ideas.

For instance.

Did you know that Rosa Parks was a plant? That she wasn't just some poor, sad, tired black lady, but a civil rights activist that had planned the entire event out?

Did you know that Harvey Milk wasn't just a gay rights activist, but a marijuana activist? He thought they were the same war. Also, he was incredibly polyamorous, sexing just about everyone around him.

Do you know why we allowed slavery to be in practice? At the time, there was no such concept as "the human race" - we didn't think africans were like animals, we thought they were animals. Considering the social culture and knowledge barriers at the time, it almost made sense.

Did you know that Lincoln only abolished Slavery so that the south couldn't send the slaves in as soldiers, because if they did the North would quickly lose?

Did you know that most historians believe that without eastern interference, Native Americans / American Indians were likely to have killed each other off anyway because they, too, thought of the other tribes as animals?

Did you know that in the South, the Civil War is taught as "Northern Aggression"? Or that in Europe and other countries, they teach the American Revolution as if they'd just said "alright, colonies. Whatever. We don't even want you. Have fun!" instead of the ruthless bloodbath that we're taught here in the states.


History is only as it is taught. If everyone in the world believes something happened a certain way, did it really happen that way? In the novel 1984, this concept is explored. "We were at war with Eastasia. We were always at war with Eastasia." Do things only happen as we remember them or as they affect us, or is there really something more to it? If you tell everyone in the world that we've always been at war with Eastasia, and the entire world believes that we've always been at war with Eastasia, then have we always been at war with Eastasia? Is there such thing as an absolute truth? Or is it all easily manipulated in the minds of the beholder? That's something to think about the next time you hear that Rosa Parks was a sad, little old lady who'd had a long day at work, because maybe, just maybe, history was rewritten.

...So, in the end... who's right?

Thursday, October 29, 2009

Twit This!

Isn't twitter a fantastic invention? Between twitter and facebook, I have a constant method to tell people things that they don't care about. But sometimes... someone says something on twitter or facebook where I think "...wow, I hope their mother isn't friends with them" or "I hope their boss doesn't see this..." I started saving some of these tweets because of their sheer ridiculousness.

I love you guys to death and this is of course solely teasing... but I've seen a lot of blogs on things people really shouldn't have said on twitter, and I thought I'd make some of my own. (names have, of course, been removed, except for celebrities. If you recognize a tweet of yours and want it deleted, I will do so, but only because I'm nice. If you're offended by this post, do a reality check and grow up - this is meant to be a humorous post.)

-------------------

There's a lot of different categories of stupid tweets, my favorite being the "I'M A DRUNK CELEBRITYYYYYY" tweets.

Kupono Aweau was on S5 of SYTYCD, a show where the contestants are generally considered to be great influences on people. Here, we see Kupono's tendency to tweet like a drunk fifteen year old girl.



Here's another one from another SYTYCD Celeb:


Okay, so originally I took the name and picture out of this next couple tweets, but I'm changing my mind. This is season 1 SYTYCD winner Nick Lazzarini:




Another drunk SYTYCD alum:








Sometimes celebs aren't drunk, they just say stupid, stupid shit. For instance, SYTYCD S3 alum Lauren Gottleib making fun of the people she's auditioning for. ...intelligent.



And SYTYCD judge/choreographer Lil' C tweeting about his disdain for fat chicks:



Okay, so you're not a Celeb, so how can twitter get you in trouble? Imagine being an employer and seeing these things on your employee's twitter.








(A classic facebook post from Lamebook.com)



Keep it classy, guys:






Please, don't tweet about how smart you are, because this is how it comes off to the rest of us:



Could be filed under "keep it classy" but I feel like this deserves a post of it's own. What have we learned about putting drinking photos on facebook?




And then there's one guy I used to follow who's just kind of a dick...













Now, I'm not going to pretend like I've never said something on twitter I shouldn't have. For instance, this little nugget:







I hope you guys enjoyed this and no one's offended. I had a lot of fun putting this together, it's been in the works since I joined twitter in June. I love my fritters soooo much!!! <33

Monday, October 26, 2009

Bad Romace

So my friend Amanda is in this class called Sex and Society, where they have to do a survey questioning people about how they handle love, relationships, etc. Here are my responses:

1.When is the last time you went on a date? With whom? Where did you go? What did you do?

Oh wow, uh.... Summer '08 would be the last time I went on a formal date, with a nice guy named.... ummm.... Andrew. Andrew Betz. We went to Hard Rock where we had a semi-awkward conversation for a while, and I think about halfway through we realized we'd just be friends at best. Then we went to old navy cuz they were having a sale on flip flops, and then we both went home... to our separate homes.


2.Describe your ideal date

Well, I hear that when first dating, the general rule is "Drinks is the audition, Lunch is the interview, and Dinner is Romance", and I guess that stays true. Drinks or Coffee is great for the first date, somewhere fun like Johnny Rockets for lunch, but then instead of dinner, something fun like going to the zoo or concert of a mutually enjoyed band would be great.


3.What was the worst date you have been on?

Worst date would definitely have to be my junior year when a guy came up for a date-ish kind of situation where he joined me for Wednesday Night Dinner, a big thing me and my friends did every wednesday. We had a mutual friend who was there and helped ease any awkward tension, because I was incredibly nervous and he was incredibly attractive. Two of my friends came to WND who had apparently broken up the night before, so they were both all sorts of needy-gimme-attention, which really didn't help my nervousness. Finally, Julian, Tamar and I went back to my apartment and watched some TV. A couple weeks later, I found out that my one "Friend" had been flirting with Julian on Facebook after meeting him at wednesday night dinner, and they'd hung out and made out. I was not a happy camper.


4.Define love. How do you know you love someone? How do you let someone know you love them?

Love is... Love is a splendid thing, love lifts us up where we belong, all you need is love! :-) No, seriously though, being in love is this amazing feeling when two people just know that they don't know how they've ever lived life without this person, and never want to live life without them again. Generally, it's not hard to let someone know you're in love with them, because they're likely in love with you too.
Unrequited love, on the other hand, is usually just Lustions (a term I made up combining Lust and Emotions) and it's always a difficult situation (trust me, I'm really good at it.)


5.Define romance. What are ways of being romantic?

Romance is... hmm. I guess it all depends on the couple. Romance could be curling up on the couch under a heavy blanket staring at the fire in the fireplace. It could be going to a death metal show. Could be a night out on the town. I think "romance" is whatever they could enjoy doing by themselves but are enjoying it so much more because they're with each other.



6.Define sex

Oh man... that's very difficult, esp cuz it all depends on the couple. Of course oral sex counts as sex, but I don't think it's nearly as big a deal as standard penetrative sex. Handjobs are basically foreplay. When it comes to sex and what counts as virginity-losing sex depends on what the person wants to do. For instance, if you have a girl that never, ever wants to have penetrative vaginal sex, then likely "losing the v-card" would happen at oral. On the other extreme, a versatile gay man, active and receptive anal sex may be considered two very different things, which brings up the concept of multiple virginities (something many people believe in, but many do not.)


7.What is sexy to you? What do you do be sexy?

I dunno, things that I find sexy are just when a guy is totally confident with himself enough to make things that aren't about sex, about sex. Like, I'd love to wake up to my man cooking me breakfast in nothing but an apron, or taking a shower with him.
I'm different in when I try to be sexy, because I'm a really innocent guy with a dirty streak. ...which just sounds like I don't wash my underwear. Gross. But I mean like I just like being silly and ridiculous with my guy, which shows confidence in a different way. I'm that guy that turns on the radio and dances like no one's watching, which I've had guys (and girls) tell me is actually kinda sexy in it's own right.




What do you guys think? Agree/Disagree? Your own responses?

Saturday, October 24, 2009

Caffeine

I.
Love.
Caffeine.
Hell, the only reason I'm conscious right now is cuz I drank a whole bunch of diet coke today.

However.
I'm not particularly caffeine sensitive, and I'm pretty much half-asleep writing this.
But I digress.

According to Wikipedia, the average person overdoses on caffeine at 300 mg or more. Sounds like a lot, right? Kinda hard to do?
I've definitely had too much caffeine before, but my friend Lauren once overdosed. It's a lot easier than it sounds.
See, your average 8oz of instant coffee (typically the weakest besides decaf) only has 57mg of caffeine. On the other end of the spectrum, drip coffee has 145mg per 8oz. Generally, if you're drinking instant coffee, you can have a whole bunch of mugs of coffee before there's a problem. Drip coffees are generally take longer to make and longer to consume, due to strength and temperature. 12 oz of Coke Zero only has 35mg of caffeine, and 12oz of Mountain Dew has 54mg.

However, a 16oz amp has between 154mg and 160mg of Caffeine. Two of these, and you've potentially overdosed.

Fun Fact:
There are energy drinks that have more than 300mg of caffeine per serving.
For instance, Red Line PowerRush is one of those 2.5oz energy shots that taste like soap. It already has 350mg of caffeine, as does the 16oz Spike Shotgun. Their half-size, the 8.4 oz Spike Shooter actually has 300mg of caffeine. A 16 ounce can of Wired X344 contains 344 milligrams of caffeine. Starbucks 16oz Grande Black Coffee has between 259.2mg to 564.4mg (averaging around 372mg). Even the controversial 8.4oz Cocaine Energy Drink only comes in at a measly 280mg.


If you're someone who's sensitive or inexperienced with high levels of caffeine, please don't get yourself started on these high-level energy boosters. Don't get me wrong, I've come very close to ODing on energy drinks quite a few times - I just love the taste of caffeine on my tongue. My advice? Stick to the sugar-free energy drinks. I've found that you're far less likely to deal with the crash or jitters after the stuff wears off. If you want more natural energy, get yourself a vitamin B complex with C, and take that every morning for an awesome metabolism boost that'll help you lose weight and maintain energy levels throughout the day (spice it up with Chromium Picolinate, a vitamin that not only boost metabolism but also helps curb carb cravings!)
Drink lots and lots of green tea, and make sure to get 8oz of water in you. 8 hours of sleep will leave you beautifully rested for your day. Follow all these steps and you'll have great, natural energy.

Comment with any questions you have or stories! :-)

(all caffeine information retrieved from http://www.energyfiend.com/the-caffeine-database)

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Less Than Three

I guess I'm going to do a late-night rant every night.
Except I'll probably forget tomorrow.

Hokay.

Love.

Before I start this, let me inform you that I am filled with headache and sleep deprivation, so that's going to be a large part of what fuels this rant. For being unemployed, I've had a horrendously long day.

So.

Love.

I've always been a firm believer in trusting everyone. I believe it was on this very blog that I came up with the phrase "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, and you're a total dick for breaking my trust. Asshole." ...or something like that.
I feel very similar when it comes to love. As a human being, I know that I have infinite capacity for love... but love doesn't just mean "oh brb we're getting married" kind of love. Love has many, many levels. There's love for a boyf/girlf, love for a spouse, love for a friend, love for a best friend, love for family, love for someone you had a class with and like what they say, love for someone you've never even met but have had a few awesome tweet-conversations with...

There's so many different levels of love.
I've had a few friends in the past get really upset with me, though.
"Well, you say you love me, but you also say you love so-and-so, and you also say you love so-and-so..."
It's honestly just an expression that I use.
"Well then how am I supposed to know?"
...you don't have to know. Focus on you, not those around me.

I literally had a roommate/friend once who wanted me to rank my friends. I basically told her to fuck off. ...we're not friends anymore.

Why is this such a hard concept for people to get though? I mean, I understand people don't get it, so I try to warn people ahead of time. "Listen, I tend to throw the phrase 'I love you' around a lot, so trust me when I say I mean nothing creepy by it." And no, it doesn't mean anything less the more I say it, it's not like you can get habituated to love like it's ibuprofin or pain or something. It's not like when you wear the same cologne for a while you can no longer smell it... it's love. It's sorta like how pie will always be delicious no matter how many times you eat it, or how a kitten is always soft no matter how many times you pet it, or how lard will always make you fat. ...speaking of which, I could really go for some food right now...

I'd like to quote the nations number one poet when I say "Where is the Love?" Yes, of course I'm referring to will.I.am of the Black Eyed Peas, writers of literary and aural masterpieces such as "Don't Phunk With My Heart", "My Humps", "Fergalicious", and "I Got It From My Mama".
Does he not have a point though? I see nothing wrong with spreading my love around. Maybe that's why I give such great hugs - I'm not afraid to hold back.

Didn't we learn anything from Barney? "I Love You, You Love Me, We're a Happy Family! With a GREAT BIG HUG, and a kiss from me to you! Won't you say you love me too?" C'mon, we're a bunch of weirdos raised on Barney, the least we could do is start fucking acting like it.

So next time you get creeped out by me saying "I Love You," just remember I'm probably not out to wed you. Unless, of course, I am, in which case you'll know the difference. ...likely, because you'll be duct taped to a chair in my living room.

Goodnight!

Monday, October 19, 2009

Look at this Fucking Hipster

Another late-night rant? Yes, please!


So I've realized something over the years.
I'm 99% sure that all hipsters are actually people completely devoid of social skills.

Before you scream at me that I'm just a mainstream hater working for the man or some other stupid shit, try and tell me that this girl has social skills.



If you said that she's just rebelling against social norms, you are kindly invited to go google yourself and quit reading this fucking blog. Ever heard the phrase "If you don't get the joke, it's probably about you"? ...yeah.


That's the thing. "Rebelling against social norms" translates to "socially retarded". Seriously? Most hipsters I've met have worse social skills than an autistic person (except autistic people have a medical/psychological reason for being socially awkward... hipsters have no excuse.) Take, for instance, these two fucking hipster girls I met at a party last year. I had been asked to make a playlist. I thought about the party we were going to: it was a dry, outdoor barbecue, filled 99% with people that belonged to our dance team on campus (we'd just had our final show of the year, and this was a party to kind of celebrate it. There were a few people coming that were the host's friends or people's boyfriends.) Knowing the people, I filled the playlist primarily with a) things on the radio, and b) covers of things on the radio. Fun, dancey pop/punky stuff. I spent a good chunk of time putting together this playlist onto my ipod.


To give a little bit of background, I get really, really upset when people touch my ipod. ...see, my ipod kind of freaks out when other people touch him, and has the tendency to freeze up anytime someone does... so I get a little weary of other people touching my ipod. Luckily, most people at this party knew that about me, but just in case, I kept my ipod behind a bush, still attached to the speakers but out of sight.

We ended up essentially having one party inside and one outside (the sliding doors of the apartment led to a nice little courtyard.) Generally I was getting pretty good reactions to my playlist, it was nice. A little while later, I notice these two hipsters with their headbands and loose skirts and tiny jackets and band-you've-never-heard-of shirts and unwashed, teased hair talking closely and drinking from red cups. I move closer to them, and I get a strong whiff of Werther's.
"...are you guys drinking straight Butterscotch Schnapps?"
"...yes? how did you know it was Buttershots and not like... something else?"
"because I'm not retarded. This is a dry party, can you guys not drink?"
"No one's going to know."
"Really? because I was ten feet away and could smell it. I'm the only person here that's 21, and if this party gets broken up for any reason and they find you two with booze, I could get in a lot of trouble."
"You're not gonna get in trouble, trust us."
"yeahokaywhatever."

So they keep going with their schnapps. ...then I see them rifling through my ipod.
"Excuse me guys, but can you not touch my ipod? He tends to freak out if other people touch him."
"Oh, *not putting the ipod down* we're just trying to see if you have any Justice."
"The electronic french guys? I think I have a remix or something. Really though, can you leave it alone?"
"Oh, but we want to listen to Justice! I'll just plug in my iPod!"
"...actually, can you not? I worked for a while on that playlist..."
"Yeah, but there's no Justice on it."
"....yeah, that's because I tried to tailor it to everyone. Also, the host of the party asked me make this"
"oh... okay..."

They finally put my ipod down and sulked away.

About ten minutes later, the host came up to me and said
"...so, my friends want to plug their ipod in...?"
"yeah, but I worked on this playlist for you... for a while..."
"yeah, I know... it's totally rude, but they're kinda pressuring me. I don't wanna listen to their crappy music either, so around nine o'clock ish can we switch it out?"
"....yeah, sure, that gives it another half hour. Sounds good. ...by the way, you know they're drinking, right?"
"they're what?"

9.00 rolls around, and I unplugged my ipod and let the stupid-ass hipster girls have their fun. A couple people gave me funny looks. "It's not my ipod anymore, sorry guys!" as the hipster girls jammed up the doorway jamming out to their french electronica. About fifteen minutes later, I went to leave to check up on my roommate, going from the courtyard into the complex. I look down the hallway, and what do I see? Police knocking on the party's door. So I book it down to my apartment, seconds later getting a text from one of the partygoers saying that the cops broke up the party. Luckily, they didn't catch the stupid-ass hipster girls drinking, but if they had I could have been in trouble were I still there.


This is not an isolated indecent. A majority of the hipster-encounters I've had usually revolve around a) how their strange indie underground music is better than yours, b) their firm belief in something thoroughly unproven like Reiki or Ghosts, quoting "scientific proof," ignoring every study and fact you throw at them, or c) Macs.

And now, as I try to go to sleep but can't, because my brother who pretends to be goth/hardcore/metal is snoring like a mother-fucker, I leave you with this:

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Saturday, October 17, 2009

Celebrity Crushes

Let's talk about Celebrity Crushes.
...we all have them, stop pretending like you don't. He's the guy that at night, you fantasize about starting a band so you can go on tour with them and make them love you. Sure, these fantasies deny all common knowledge, expectations, and sexuality, but those are just annoying things that people say, i.e. "Oh, I have such a crush on Brad Pitt" yeah, well he's practically married to Angelina Jolie, so I guess you're out of luck. "Really? that's what tipped you off? Not the fact that I'm a dude, or that I've never met him, or that he's famous as fuck and I'm not, so I never will meet him? No, it's totally because Angelina Jolie is in my way - she's my only competition."
...
...
...

Anyways, here are my celebrity crushes!!!

<-Matt Cady, FannyPak
Alex Gaskarth, All Time Low ->
















<-Joel McHale, The Soup (sorry Joel!)


Chris Hardwick, Web Soup ->



















Mark Salling & Corey Monteith, Glee

Pasha Kovalev, So You Think You Can Dance





Jimmy Robbins




William Tell




Link

Levi Johnston




















I mean, I think that's a pretty good list. I also really like this one guy that occasionally pops up on the manhunt ads... he's a regulation hottie...



Tell me that's not a guy worth keepin' around, eh?

Anyways, who are your big celebrity crushes? Tell me about them! What's your fantasies about them?

(I'll tell you mine! Sometimes, I fantasize that I put a band together and we get hella famous and go on tour with All Time Low, Hey Monday, and Jimmy Robbins. I'm the first band to ever bring dancers on tour, and I bring Fanny Pak with me. Some nights I think about Matt Cady, some nights I think about Alex Gaskarth... some nights I imagine them fighting over me! Tee hee!)


How I feel about teaching Religion in School



(Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal)

can't stop, won't stop

So I think I'm gonna start doing this thing where I stay up late and start rambling on this blog. I find those to be the most fun I have posting... and as much as I love the people that read this, it's really more of a me thing (though I listen! If there's something you want me to write about, leave me an idea!)

I want to write about my future wedding.

Okay, yeah, I don't know who it's going to be with, nor do I know when, nor am I a groomzilla who needs everything done his way and is actually seriously talking wedding plan sans groom.

No, I'm just having fun here.

but really though.
let's talk about this shit.

So my wedding will take place on the beach. I've always loved the beach. It's so pretty, and sandy! I'll probably have to do a bunch of sit ups first and find a way to make waterproof formalwear, because once the "I do"'s have been said, we're going to run into the ocean and have our kiss. It will be big and romantic and we'll probably giggle through the whole thing... and then everyone will run into the water and join us! We'll have a regular party in the water for a little bit, while the crew sets up the dance floor, DJ, and bar on the sand. Myself and my groomsmen (and my husband, if he's into it) will get changed and get ready for the wedding dance. It'll start off all nice and traditional and beautiful until the music switches from a gorgeous pop ballad to hardcore hip hop. My groomsmen will launch out from behind the speakers, and we'll have a choreographed krump routine. Then, maybe, we'll switch it up to disco halfway though.

Then, we drink. We drink like fucking pros. We will drink so much that Tara Reid would say "...damn, son - you wanna slow down?"

...but I guess I have to fall in love first, huh?
Well, I can manage that. It's been a long time since I've been in love... but I think I know what the perfect relationship is supposed to be like...:

"She thinks I'm crazy.
Judging by the faces that she's making.
And I think she's pretty.
But pretty's just part of the things she does that amaze me.
And she calls me sweetheart.
I love it when she wakes me when it's still dark.
And she watches the sun.
But she's the only one I have my eyes on."
-The Maine, I Must Be Dreaming

"Lets turn the lights down low,
Turn the lights down, I got a movie
We can watch until you fall asleep on my chest
So tell me right now,
So tell me right now, is there any place
You’d rather be other than here, lets forget the rest
And I swear I swear when I first saw you
And talked to you, you’d give me purpose
With every single word you’d say
You took my breath away

I am so high I’m never coming down
Because you’re mine, and you’ve decided to stay around
And as time is taken away, you stay the same, you stay the same
You stay here with me"
-The Follow Through, So High

Yeah, I think I've got it. So where is my mystery man?
Well, I've waited 22 long years to find him... okay, well 6 years if we're only counting from when I came out at 16, but still... I'm patient. Considering I'm looking for the dork I'm gonna spend the rest of my life with, I can be patient. Try a few guys out. Figure it out the hard way. I'm sure as hell not desperate, and I'm not going to fall for the first pair of pretty eyes that bats their lashes at me (...what??) while I don't have the highest self-esteem, I do respect myself and always will. ...it's cause I'm bamf.

What was I talking about?

Oh yeah.

I also want a moon bounce at my wedding.

And I will DJ my wedding. And it will be fantastic. because I'm amazing. My fiance/husband better love my playlist, or I'll killbill his ass.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Keep Holding On

So I actually wrote the Atheism post about a week or so before I posted it. Why the wait?
Well, the night after writing it, I had a really interesting dream, and it felt wrong to post the entry after having it.

In the first half of my dream, we found that when you die, you go back and live your life over again... except you still retain all of your memories, or at least the best that you can have them after two lifetimes. Do you do everything the same and stay a step ahead of the game? or do you do something completely different? It's sorta like playing Pokemon for the second time...
The only thing was, everyone else was also on their second round, but no one knew it. We all thought we'd sound crazy, and besides, no one remembers third grade history anyway. After all these years, everything just feels like a hunch anyway. "Do I know him...? We may have met, I can't remember."

Two distinct occurrences in this half of the dream:
I was in fourth grade math class. I decided to give up on a frustrating math problem, saying "fuck that." ...I forgot that fourth graders aren't allowed to say "fuck." "...uh... screw that? can I say that?" Needless to say, my teacher was not happy with me. I was told to do pushups. "Okay, no problem," I thought, forgetting that in fourth grade I had noodle-arms. Push-ups didn't work as well as I'd hoped.

Next, I was a freshman in college. I chose to go to the same university. I saw my friend Alyssa and waved - forgetting that I hadn't met her yet. "I... uh... you're in my Orientation Group, right? Alyssa?" We awkwardly shake hands, but I know we're going to be awesome friends, our personalities get along awesomely. I see people from my prior run-through who used to be my best friend and used to be my boyfriend, and I purposefully choose not to meet either of them. Instead of doing the activities, I decided to lay down on a wall listening to my headphones... maybe I should have gone somewhere else, I thought. In a world where everything is deja vu, nothing feels new.

The second time you die, you end up in the kitchen of what appears to be a large house. I knew what I was supposed to do - go through as much of the house as I want, make my way back to the kitchen, and meet God. "Sounds good," I thought. The house was a maze - I don't mean confusing hallways and rooms, I mean it's like a maze for a lab rat, the walls made out of evenly spaced two-by-fours, feeling sort of like a house of mirrors, since you can see through all the walls.

The maze is tight, as if it's a playground for small children, built inside of and worming through this house. After wriggling my way through the maze, I make it to the backyard, where there's a big open area, complete with strange cartoon-esque alligators. Surprisingly, throughout all of this, I'm uncomfortably calm. "Yeah, okay, whatever, let's do this" was my mentality. I decide I've had enough of this maze, so I start to snake my way back to the kitchen. Somehow, I end up going to the upper level of the house, where the maze spits me out into a shallow, open room. On one wall hang three baseball bats, and a cricket bat (for the brits?) I take a baseball bat and the cricket bat, and behind them on the wall, I see scrawled "use the bats to beat your way through the house!" I know that it's cheating, but the rules of the game weren't really explained or defined, and I know that deep down, it doesn't matter, I'll do what I damn well please and I'll get the same result. So I start wailing at the wall.
Apparently, dead me has noodle arms too.
I give up on the wall and look for a door. It's gotten dark now, so I flip a light switch and head through a door...

...into what appears to be a fully decorated L-Shaped living room, with a fireplace and everything. A man and a woman in Christmas sweaters explain that they live there. ...no, they're not surprised that a strange man burst into their room. Around the corner I could see a rocking horse, and other children's things, I assume there may have been children with them, out of sight.
I was relatively unfazed by this couple, but I saw another door, blocked off by various tables and knickknacks. I asked them where it went, they didn't know but they found it unwise to try to find out. I ignored them, and began pulling away the tables and knickknacks. I tried the door, which didn't work, and I began kicking it. They asked me repeatedly not to, but I had to try this door. I whipped out my bat and knocked the handle off the door, then pounded the door open to the top of a now-dark stairwell. The couple wasn't upset with my decision, but gave up on me and went back to the fireplace.

I tried the lights on the wall, but the power no longer wanted to work. I used my cell phone (yes, my cell phone that dead me apparently has) to light my way down the stairwell, which spit me out into what appeared to be a large dining area, with about nine rectangular tables arranged almost like a classroom or dining hall. It was twilight, dark enough to turn on a lamp, but enough light was coming through the windows on my right to deal without. I walked through the dining room and up a step into the kitchen.

"...God?"
"Yeah, I'm in here."
I look to my left to see an attached sun room. The sun room is filled with plants, and even though there was light in the dining room where, you can see the sunset through these windows, too. Wood colored carpet and leaf colored walls surrounded a large work station, the centerpiece of which is a huge computer.

I approached the PC, and on the center was a large "Home" icon displayed on most internet browsers. I nonchalantly said "Oh, I get it. 'cuz you're 'home'." Note, I wasn't bitter, annoyed, enthusiastic, or determined throughout the entire maze or this conversation... I was logical and emotionless.

A browser opened, and brought up my email.
I had hundreds, maybe thousands of new emails from eHarmony.
Each email was something nice someone had to say about me.

This was the first time I felt emotion.
I started to cry.

I immediately woke up.

-----------------------

No, I don't know what this means. I don't really believe in dream interpretation. If anything, while writing the atheism piece, I pushed all enjoyment or desire of a concrete God into my subconscious, so my brain gave me some answers. But hey... if this is what happens after death, I'm okay with it. ...I think the "second life" thing was kind of strange, but I wouldn't be surprised if something like the house thing happens after we die... it'd be sorta like the final boss, or the SAT's, or like when Link Luke finds out that Ganondorf Darth Vader was his father the whole time.

Or you know what? Maybe nothing happens after we die. Maybe we just rot. I mean, in every sense, that certainly makes more sense. It's what most other living organisms do, and in the course of human history, there's been a fucking lot of people. I can't imagine a place where our "souls" have a final resting place, all eleventy-million-billion of us. Maybe some of us are expendable. Maybe they let a certain number into heaven, a certain number into hell, and then the rest of us were just here to keep the main people in line, or even to set up the world for the people who count and haven't even been born yet. It's a scary thought to think that maybe, just maybe, we're not important. That's likely why religion was created.

I don't think that this house and this computer and this whole thing was meant to be a final resting place... I think it was a place to reconcile all your regrets, all your fears, and all your worries, and get ready to move on. ...to be done. Read a whole bunch of amazing things about yourself, and you're basically set for death. I'm okay with that idea.

Maybe this dream was prophetic. Maybe it meant nothing. It'll definitely change how I think about things, I just haven't figured out in what way. Maybe I'll forget in a couple months. ...maybe I'll never forget it.

::edit::

My favorite dream study went as such:
The researchers put participants into three groups. All groups had to the same task: write in a journal every evening, and every morning write about what they dreamed about.
Each group was also to select a specific person from their life.
In group one, if they thought about that person, they were to write in their journal about that person, everything that came to mind.
In group two, if they thought about that person while writing in their journal, they were not to write about the person, but were to make a tally mark every time they did.
In group three, they were not to think about that person at all costs. Do not write about them, do not think about them, change the subject completely. (anyone that's tried not thinking of something knows that all you're gonna do is think about it.)

The dream reports showed that almost no one in group one dreamed about their assigned person. Those in group two dreamed about their assigned person something like 25% of the time, and those in group three dreamed about their assigned person around 50% of the time. What this shows is that we are more likely to dream about things that we shove into our subconscious, no matter how insignificant. Dreams are not necessarily a representation of our unconscious needs, wants, and desires, but more representative (still not 100%) of the things we tell our brain to keep quiet. On top of it, there's two different kinds of dreams. Rem Sleep dreams are the ones we tend to remember because usually, those are the dreams that you wake up from every morning. Stage Two dreams, however, take place during a different light stage of sleep, and generally revolve around working through problems (not necessarily real-life problems, just whatever your dream as made up.)

Point being, if you wanna have that dream about Robert Pattinson, I suggest doing your best not to think about him before bed.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

WHAT IN THE $*_%ING HELL WHYYYYYY











YES THESE ARE ALL REAL OH MY GOD WHYYYYY