My thoughts on life.

Archive for the category “Memory”

Think About It..

Just a little while ago a man by the name of Ryan James Yezak released a video to promote awareness of the lack of gay rights in the country. Its other goal is to bring attention to a documentary that James was making detailing those discriminations within our society. I have a few things to say, but I really ask that you watch this video. It will take up five minutes of your day. I ask that you watch this with an open heart and think about it..

I was raised in a country where the members of Congress, the President, and the American people wanted a seperation of church and state. In fact, this country’s founders, despite what many people want you to believe, was founded by people who were tired of religion in government. So why is the notion of gay people marrying still even a debate within politicians’ minds? Because, there is bigotry. Simply put, in its most unrefined definition, people don’t like people different than themselves. Often times, this mindset is most prevelent in religon.

It was the idea of religion, you know the one about “its in the Bible”, that people used to counteract the abolition of slavery, women’s equal rights, and cross-ethnic marriages. It was those people, who do not have their scientific facts together, that scared the country into thinking all gay people had HIV, and that they shouldn’t give blood, semen, or bone marrow.(By the way, all of those statutes are still in place today.)

There is fear of the unknown; I get that. I understand the tiny, yet overwhelming, thought that enters one’s brain and can disrupt an entire life’s worth of thinking. I know what its like to be afraid, scared of thinking, scared of acting, scared of being who you really are. I have been afraid for many years, petrified really. I can connect with the idea of losing everyone, everything, around you.

To have walls is normal, we all build them. We lock people out; our ideas and thougths are our hostages. We take a single thought, decipher it, reword it, reword it again, and again, and again. We try our best to take that thought, which doesn’t fit into society, and make it fit. We polish it, buff it, chip off the rust; we make it look as good as we can. Then we release it into the world.

I can remember the first time I had the thought that I liked boys. I was in third grade. I remember quite clearly that I not only wanted but needed to be around him. I wanted to kiss his cheek so badly. Then as I grew, those unexpressed thoughts became stronger but so did the hatred for gay people.

I come from a divorced home where half of my family is Catholic and the other half Protestant. Needless to say, I have been exposed to the traditional Christian menatality concerning gay people. I have heard the bashing, experienced the bullying, and have been one of those kids who contemplated suicide. I’ve hated myself. So, I prayed. I prayed every night for years. I hoped God would take this away from me, this sin.

Yes, I am Christian. I believe in a God that loves his creation. I believe that all people are his creation (that also includes gay people). I believe that one day we will be judged for our actions, lack of actions, hate, and love.

It has taken me this long to announce proudly that I am gay. I was born gay. It is not a choice. So, for those of you who want to start pointing the finger, let me ask you a few questions. Why would I choose a life where I can’t marry, can’t adopt kids with my husband, can’t give blood or bone marrow? Why would I choose a life where people spit on me, are afraid of me, look down upon me as if I am the dirt they walk on? Why would I risk loosing friends and family? Why would I choose this?

Also, you say this is a sin. The Bible calls it an abomination. You seem to miss the other verses where shelfish, leather, short hair, and showing skin are also an abomination. You seem to miss the verses where kids are stoned to death in the town square for disobeying their parents, or brides are murdered because they aren’t virgins on their wedding day. You say this is a sin. Therefore, you say its a choice. If my homosexuality is a choice you have to accept that sexuality as a whole is a choice. So tell me, when did you choose to be straight?

I am the happiest I’ve ever been, and I hope that one day the feelings that I have for myself, and who I’m becoming, will be the broadcasted message to gay youth. Being gay does not mean you will live a horrible life without family or friends. No, being gay means you will live like everyone else, get a job, have fun with your friends, and find someone that you love. That person will just be the same gender.

Let your light shine in the darkness to be a guide for others. Love.



I am starting off this post begging those few loyal followers to forgive me for my tardiness in writing new posts. The last two weeks were finals, and I seriously had to commit to my studies.

With the closing of the year, I am feeling so many different emotions. I feel like a pregnant lady in the mall who finds out she has to start shopping in the maternity section. At first though there was only one looming feeling that has been anchored into my heart. Sadness.

Over the course of nine months, I have gained so many new friends. I have grown more than anyone could ever imagine. I have changed. So much so, that the group of friends I have surrounded myself with have ultimately changed my life. and I couldn’t imagine my day-to-day life without them. To begin to think about leaving them was something I was dreading. And so the emotion-packed excursion began.

First, one friend trickled out. I wasn’t that sad, not because I didn’t care about them, but because their leaving was not real inside of my head; it hadn’t set in. Then another left and another and another. With each friend, the emotions rose. However, it wasn’t until my hour-and-a-half drive home that I broke down and started to bawl. Then, a song came on my ipod that seemed to change my thinking.

Now, call me corny or cheesy, but I believe everything in life has a great meaning and purpose. The song “I Hope You Dance” by Lee Ann Womack seemed to be translating that great message. Yes, I know it is about leaving the one you love and hoping the very best for them. I know; I bought the song. But, in this situation, it seemed to be applicable to me and my posse.

I realized that in four months time I will be right back to listening to stories that will cause me to cry with laughter, and telling stories of my own summer adventures. I will continue to grow and live life, as will my friends. I want them, not to be thinking about me, but to be enjoying one of their last summers as young adults. I want them, pardon the expression, to dance. Yes, I will miss them, but I know that four months will fly by as fast as first semester.

Forgive and Never Forget

As the end of my freshman year of college comes to a close in these last 4-5 weeks, I have been looking back on the year a lot. I am astounded by how fast this school year has gone and by how much I have changed in these nine months. I entered school as an annoying, loud-mouth kid who was so sure of himself and where he was going. The person writing this blog for you today is not that same boy. I am not sure of where I am going, who I will be with, what adventures I will go on. I am not sure that I will even be feeling the way I feel now in five months from now, but I am sure of one lesson that recently smacked me in the face. Forgive and forget. (However, I edited it.)

Sure, we all say this to someone who has been hurt, trampled on, tossed to the side of the road only to be eaten by ravenous vultures. However, do we ever really mean it? Do we ever apply this concept to our own life? Yes, I’ve been hurting lately. Actually, it’s really been more of mourning, and I kept telling myself to just move on, let it go, to get over it. But, I couldn’t. It wasn’t until the other night that I was having a conversation with a friend, we’ll call her Jill, and that she told me it was normal. That the feeling of loss over someone, who isn’t dead by the way, is exactly what I should be feeling. Then it hit me. I was so caught up in “moving on” that I never properly grieved the loss of someone out of my life that was such a huge influence. By not grieving, I couldn’t forgive this person, but ultimately, myself.

So as I went to bed the other night, I finally accepted the fact that my life has chapters, chapters come to a close, and new ones begin. I finally accepted forgiveness for myself, and right when I was about to push that chapter out of my life I realized I couldn’t forget, that I shouldn’t forget. I realized that the greatest novels of all time have moments of extreme emotion within every range of the spectrum. That chapter was one of the best chapters of my novel so far. However, that chapter does not define the novel.

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A Child Is Listening

Jeesh, I bet he does nothing with his life. Gosh, she sure is a “lady of the night”. Oh man, he is probably shooting up right now. There is no way she has any friends. Man, they’re fat. Oh yeah, he’s gay. She is definitely anorexic. I just know he cheats on his girlfriend.

Judgments are made throughout the whole day. As humans, it is innate to be reading every surface, person, and place with our eyes and pass a judgment on it. I understand this because I am equally guilty of it. Even when I am not vocal about my verdict, I am filtering through the images to make a quick decision about someone at a much deeper level than my eyes could possibly read.

Stereotypes. This is what the pompous, high horse, mentality is based on. If a woman is slightly masculine, then she has to be a lesbian. If a person dresses in all black, then he/she is probably casting a voodoo spell on us as we speak. If a person comes from a Hispanic background then they obviously are good at manual labor. These moronic ideas help fuel the hate, discord, and lack of effort from opposing views that has influenced the deconstruction of the American promise; all men are created equal.

After being the victim of bullying at a young age, I have a very good understanding of the impact that a single voice can have on the emotional development of a child. It is actually quite amazing to me that hundreds of praises, pats on the back, and standing ovations can all be erased by a single negative comment of a pimply faced 7th grader. These impacts last a lifetime.

It has come to my attention that a movie, “Bully” is going to be released on Friday. This documentary film follows the paths of many young students who fall victim to malicious bullying. The film has amazing potential to reach out, touch, and change young people who do not realize the impact of their words and actions. The cycle of bullying, like so many other problems, can only be stopped through education of the young. It is the teaching of our youth today that influences the adults of tomorrow. My hope is that this film can be the much needed wake-up call to a society full of people obsessed with placing their moral, spiritual, economical, and political views on each other, and that a respectful communication can be established that allows freedom with disagreement.

I believe Mary Griffith said it best, “So, before you echo “amen” in your home and place of worship. Think. Think and remember a child is listening.”

The Morning Run

Today I decided I would post a short story I wrote in the beginning of the semester for my creative writing class. It’s only a page and half in length and the requirements were that two or more characters had to find something. Hope you enjoy!

The Morning Run

As the morning fog was lifting from the tree littered hilltop, the rhythmic beat of footsteps gained momentum as the popular running trail had a brief moment of decline. Between the panting of breaths a Yellow Warbler could be heard as he sung his refreshing song. The hues of purple perpetuating from the lilacs on the forest floor gave warmth to the cold, sometimes unforgiving, ground. The sunlight hitting their foreheads made the beads of sweat glisten and twinkle. The beating hearts soothed their souls; it gave them an escape. It was the perfect day for running.

“Stop,” yelled the lanky girl with thick curly brown haired pulled into a tight ponytail. Her demand was successful as the drumming of sneakers against the dirt came to a sudden halt. Standing only a few yards in front of her was her partner, a boy, whose physique resembled that of a professional athlete. He did his best to hide his longing for oxygen. Sweeping his sweat drenched hair to the side of his face, he blurted mockingly, “You tired already?”

“Not as tired as you are,” she snapped back with a smile.

The boy started in, “Well, aren’t you something special.” His tone oozed sarcasm. “Just because you have an award…”

The boy was interrupted. He glanced at the girl as she let out a gasp that laid a blanket of silence over the woods. The girl was peering into a thistle bush as the boy approached her to investigate.

“Look here,” she grimaced as her hand immerged from the gnarly branches. She was holding a running watch. It was all black with great design and light as to not be bothersome for the longer distances.

Before the boy could mutter a response, still holding the watch, the girl began to cry and those few droplets transformed into a surge. She fell to her knees as the salty tears flowed from her grieving eyes. She was struck with guilt.

In that moment, the boy out of insecurity snatched the watched from her hands. As he examined the watch, he knew why the girl was crying. He had seen a watch like this before. He remembers how its twin sits on the girl’s dresser, memorialized by the picture of her deceased father. Her father taught her the secrets of distance running. Her father wore that watch with its eerie similarities to the one found.

“Give it back! Give it back to me,” she pleaded. “Give me the damn watch!”

As the boy, struck with anguish and helplessness, reached out with watch in hand, he couldn’t help, but begin to grieve with her. The girl whose sadness overwhelmed her now grits her teeth in anger. She seizes the watch and with all of the strength in her feeble arms pitches it into the air. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she does her best to repel the memories, the sorrow, but mostly, to repel the guilt.

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Emotional Oreo

So, I’ve kept my first few blogs pretty fun and entertaining. Today I am going a little deeper than usual. So, if you’re looking for slapstick comedy, today probably isn’t your day, but I believe life is a balance of fun and serious moments. WARNING: Today is a serious moment about life and the person I want to become/be. Please exit site if not wanting to talk about real life.

Emotions are complex. They are raw. They aren’t meant to be completely understood. No matter how hard we, as people, try to get inside the heads of other; we fail. We trip up, step on our shoe laces, and fall flat on our faces. Guys try to decipher girls, and girls do their best to understand guys. However, even though we know the ancient truth of emotional blindness, we still push ourselves, our feelings, and our beliefs on every single person we see. We think our decisions are the most rational. We know we are right and all others are wrong. Why do we think this way?

An Oreo is probably the best creation mankind has ever put forth into the world. It is the perfect combination of sweet chocolate and the stuff in the middle that no one can give a proper name. My childhood memories often flash to me sitting at the kitchen table, dipping the cookie into the milk until it was mush, and sticking the entire cookie into my mouth at once. They are memories out of a commercial.

People and their communication is primarily based off of emotion. Ranging from things like how you may greet someone when entering the room to the amount of patience you have in dealing with someone complaining about the trivial problems in their life. Happiness. Today is a great day. I love my friends and my family; my life is on track!! Sadness. Today sucks. Nothing can go right. What is the point in all this crap? Anger. Why am I the one dealing with this? AHHHHHHHHHH! Give me a break! Triumph. I did it! I can do anything. I could handle anything the world throws at me! Bring it on!! This is the emotional roller coaster that reminds me of the beloved cookie of my childhood.

I hate the metaphor relating the way you look at the world, optimistically or pessimistically, to a glass of water half full/empty. This comparison makes people sound like robots only capable of one emotion or its polar opposite. Life is not composed of only happiness, nor sadness. It is a grand orchestra, full of flourishes and crescendos. Life has flares of bitterness and joy. Life is an Oreo; it has layers of cookie and filling.

Here is my reasoning:

  • Bad things are going to happen. People, even the best in the world, are going to have negative reactions.
  • Good things happen too. People, even the worst in the world, are going to have positive reactions.
  • If my life is layered, I can determine how many more positive reactions I have verses negative.

So, I am not always going to have a smile slapped on my face. That’s ok. In the end, I think I will look back on this Oreo. I will see the cookie. I will see the icing. Hopefully, the positives things in my life: the people in my life I’ve touched, the outcomes I’ve helped create, and the emotional growth I’ve experienced will be the cookie and the negatives will be the icing; more cookie equal more positives.

“I am not a pessimist; to perceive evil where it exists is, in my opinion, a form of optimism.” -Roberto Rossellini

This may not be the way you think; that’s OK. I do not have to think like you, but I am going to give you the respect you deserve and listen to you, and I expect the same in return. I want to be someone who influences others for the better. I want to be the change that is so desperately needed in the world today. Yes, it sounds like the nonsense dream of some no-nothing college kid, but it’s what I feel. If you disagree, please, keep drinking your half glass of water while I eat my Oreo; I am sure mine tastes better.

Sorry, My Brain Just Farted

Have you ever been sitting on a bus, next to a very attractive person, when all of a sudden you smell something awful? You try to avoid the smell, you really do. You desperately want the smell to go away because that girl/guy was perfect until you smelled them. You smile, and put on your best poker face trying not to let them know that you smell the remnants of his/her lunch. However, no matter how hard you try you have to distort your nose, hold your breath, and shift to a position with your face as far away as physically possible. Sometimes though, even with your best effort, the persons next to you realize that their secret has been discovered.

Yes, what I am describing to you is a brain fart. You know, that awful thing that happens when you’re in a conversation with someone perfect and you have something so great to say, but in the middle of thought your mind goes completely blank. It is an embarrassing thing that leaves the stench of stupidity. You want to run, but you sit there and do your best to fight through it.

Question: If you could live forever, would you and why?

Answer: “I would not live forever, because we should not live forever, because if we were supposed to live forever, then we would live forever, but we cannot live forever, which is why I would not live forever,” – Miss Alabama in the 1994 Miss USA contest.

Why do we call this slip-up what we do? Brain fart. I would like to know who was in conversation one day saying, “Oh, yeah I know. I can’t believe that………um….um..Sorry, my brain just farted…whoopsie.” What was the reaction of the person on the other end of that conversation? How is forgetting a memory anything like passing gas from your body? It scares me that someday archeologists will dig up some piece of our history and find out that we used the phrase “brain fart”. I can only imagine futuristic scientists huddled around their lab benches trying to figure out how this blob of tissue could have gas exchange through our skulls.

“It isn’t pollution that’s harming the environment. It’s the impurities in our air and water that are doing it” – Al Gore, Vice President

Brain farts haunt college students constantly. Their lack of sleep, poor nutrition, and high caffeine intake make college campuses reek of forgetfulness. Often, while taking a test and sitting in a crowded auditorium, the college student will have an idea of great potential. This idea would not only ensure a passing grade, but would revolutionize the entire learning process. These ideas can be understood in fractions of a second, however, they can leave the mind one hundred time faster.

The worst part of the brain fart is the bombardment of information back into your brain hours, sometimes days, after it was needed. It is a slap in the face, as if to say, “Yeah, I know the cure to this disease, but I’m not gonna tell you.” Why brain fart? Why do you pick on me so?

If I ever address a problem in theses blogs that I personally struggle with, I will always try to give the best advice I can on how I solve the issue or justify it. I don’t think that brain farts can ever be prevented; they happen. No matter how much we don’t like it, it happens. However, I think that, for the majority of the time, we can play it off as part of the conversation. Also, try Gas-X. If it helps at the bottom, it probably helps at the top.

“If we don’t succeed, we run the risk of failure.” – Bill Clinton, President

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