Girls with whom I would bump uglies.

OK, so I know I'm kinda beating a dead horse here with this whole homosexuality thing, but for cereal, I'm gay. I've been thinking lately about what it would take for me to want to touch a vagina and apparently, it would take exceptional vocal chords. There seems to be a direct correlation between how well you sing and how much I want to touch your genitals. That being said, there are four girls whom I would gladly poke (Actually there are three, but I was shooting for five and could only think of four that I would be like "Yeah, I'd do her, if only for children that could sing like bitches." What can I say, I'm a diva). They are, in descending order(I'm all for suspense), as follows:

4.Kristin Chenoweth (It helps that she's holding a pie. Mmm...pie.)

3. Emmy Rossum (As soon as I saw "Phantom of the Opera" I was done. Just done.)

2. Pink (She barely counts though, she's almost a man. But still all woman. Seriously, take me now. Wait, did I just say that about a woman? Daniel Boys, Daniel Boys, Daniel Boys. OK, still gay.)

1. Shoshana Bean (Seriously she is the most talented person that has ever walked this earth. Ever. Not to mention she is freakishly beautiful. OMFG I want you! NO NO NO NO NO NO I'M GAY. There, all better.

This is the most heterosexual this blog will EVER get. Revel in it, enjoy it, get over it.

Music for the Moment - "Defying Gravity"

So it may or may come as a surprise, but I'm gay. I'm also a big, fabulous stereotype. As such, I love musical theatre. Showtunes, in a way, just speak to me. I love that every song has a purpose, most songs have a message. I'm a tool, I get inspired. Right now is one of those times. Well, I'm not inspired to write, just to do something. What, I don't know. Just something.

The song for this moment is "Defying Gravity" from Wicked. It's pretty much amazing. These aren't all the lyrics, but in my estimation they're the only ones that really matter.

Something has changed within me
Something is not the same
I'm through with playing by the rules
Of someone else's game
Too late for second-guessing
Too late to go back to sleep
It's time to trust my instincts
Close my eyes: and leap!

It's time to try
Defying gravity
I think I'll try
Defying gravity
And you can't pull me down!

I'm through accepting limits
''cause someone says they're so
Some things I cannot change
But till I try, I'll never know!
Too long I've been afraid of
Losing love I guess I've lost
Well, if that's love
It comes at much too high a cost!
I'd sooner buy
Defying gravity
Kiss me goodbye
I'm defying gravity
And you can't pull me down:

So if you care to find me
Look to the western sky!
As someone told me lately:
"Ev'ryone deserves the chance to fly!"
And if I'm flying solo
At least I'm flying free
To those who'd ground me
Take a message back from me
Tell them how I am
Defying gravity
I'm flying high
Defying gravity
And soon I'll match them in renown
And nobody in all of Oz
No Wizard that there is or was
Is ever gonna bring me down!

If you don't feel anything, you have no soul. I mean you, Erratic. Right now I feel like there are no limits to what I can do. I feel like I can be whomever I want, go any place, and do anything. I know I'm a tool, but I love it when I feel like this. I've felt really down these last few days and all of a sudden it's like I took an upper cocktail. The bitch is back. I LOVE IT.

Why I'm awesome, Volume I

I love language. I'm a giant tool, yet somehow still awesome. Today in class we were to write a paragraph and strive to reach a high grade level. Our goal was grade ten, most media being written at a grade level of six to eight. I spent a long time on this paragraph and I must say that I'm proud. It's about my dog. Quite possibly, it's the best thing that anyone, anywhere, has ever written. EVER.

One of the most important entities in my life, of which there is a plethora, is my little canine companion named Petie. This little fur child of mine has made me glad to have wasted so many of theis earth's finite resources sustaining myself up until this point in my life where my Cheek, a Chihuahua/Pekinese mix, was finally able to grace me with his wondrous and awesome presence. Since the day of the procurement of my absolute best friend, my life has been nothing but a shining bright spot, almost up to the point of near supernova status, the complete and utter joy of which shows no sign of ending for my minuscule white dwarf and myself. The total elation that not only I, but my young puppy feels everyday when I walk in the door is easily comparable to winning the lottery, learning that Hollandaise sauce is no longer a mother sauce (and that it is a felony to prepare it, Eggs Benedict earning the death penalty), or even being told "I love you" by that special someone (ironically enough, for me that is Petie). I can sincerely say that my puny existence greatly improved the day that I leveled my gaze upon my delightful, diminutive dog and that I look forward to a future with much hope for the health, prosperity, and love that my perfect pocket sized pooch and I will share.

It's at grade level 20. Suck it.

I can't think of a witty name for this post.

*I wrote this about two years ago and posted it on facebook. I was doing a little upkeep by deleting some old posts and things, then I saw this. I couldn't bring myself to delete it, so here it is.*

So, Monday we had our usual P.R.I.D.E. meeting. We had the usual logistic part, it was boring as hell but we decided on our shirts (TOTAL fabulousniscosity, now toning down the gay), but then once we got the recreational part things got a little bit more interesting. We talked about pride itself. Not the organization, but the feeling. This obviously got me thinking a little bit. I actually had a lot to say on the topic at the time but just wasn’t comfortable saying it (not to say that I’m not comfortable with the group, I just wasn’t entirely sure what I wanted to say exactly).

The premise for the discussion was whether we should feel pride for being homosexual(or anything else, really) or not. For me, the answer is a resounding, ambiguous yes.

To me, pride in general is important. It’s very important that a person feel pride in their work, pride in their life, and pride in themselves. This being said, I think that people feel pride no matter what, even in useless circumstances, such as patriotism. To me, patriotism is pointless. I would feel proud of my country regardless of where I was born. I would be proud to be Canadian if I was from Canada, proud to be Mexican if I was from Mexico, and proud to be Finnish if I was from Finland. For this reason alone I am not a patriot.

So, you may ask, what is the difference of pride in one’s sexuality? One does not choose their sexuality, so following the logic already laid down, wouldn’t one would be just as proud to be of another sexuality? I see a very valid argument there, but to me there is a very bold difference; I’ve never been persecuted or hated or anything of the sort for being an American or straight. Everyday I have to think about all of these people who will hate me for being who I am. I have to worry what my father will say when I tell him. I have to worry that once my brother finds out that I will never again see my niece or nephew just because of two douche bags that made him hate gay people. I have to worry about what the most important people in my life will feel when they find out that I’m man-fucking fag. I have to worry that my family and friends will desert me for not fitting their image of whom I am. After all of this what will I have left? Pride.

To me, pride is a last resort. Pride is what keeps me going. Pride is what keeps me from crying myself to sleep at night. Pride is what keeps me alive. I know that when everyone else fails me, when there is no one there, I know that I will have pride. Pride is love, tolerance, acceptance, and peace. To me, pride is everything.

I don’t have to carry a giant rainbow in my pocket to feel pride. I don’t have to where chains or shiny underwear in public. I don’t even have to have hot, wild, exhibitionist gay sex. People get it. People understand. I know that I don’t have to prove it to you. I know that I have my pride to keep my shame at bay. I just know that I have my pride.

The girl that sits next to me has leprosy; and, she hates me.

Things one needs to know before reading this post:
1) I go to culinary school.
2) I am very easily unimpressed.
3) I am awesome.

That pretty much sums it up.

So, yesterday was the first day back after non-denominational winter holiday break. I had been looking forward to it for weeks(really since school had let out). I was excited to start new classes, be with my friends, and just learn new things(I'm a big ol' box of tool. Singular, just the one. As in less than two. Anybody? Nobody. Damn.) Here's how the day started: woke up, went back to sleep, woke up freaking out, got ready, left late and almost died on a multitude of occasions because the snow hates me. Seriously, it has plans for my demise.

I get to school, only moments late and the instructor is a douche. To be fair, he wasn't being a douche because I was late, but rather because God hates him, as does the rest of the world. Though I'm not sure that's the cause of said douchiness, or the effect. After barely surviving this class I crawl to financial aid. There had been a few issues over break and I was relieved to find out that things have gotten much, much worse. As of right now I may be owing massive amounts of non-existent money to someone. Whatevs.

At this point(dammit!) I'm thinking to myself that I still have five minutes to get to class. All my classes are in this one, small building. I endeavor to find this classroom and soon realize that it doesn't exist. Fuck. Where am I going? Apparently I'm going to butt fucking Egypt with a layover in the North Pole. I wish that that was even half as fun as it sounds. It's not.

The class in Egypt was fine. As was kitchen. The rest of the day passed swimmingly, though admittedly I did not have high expectations. The drive home went by very well, but I think I fell asleep at one point? I don't know why that was a question, but we'll pretend that my voice went up at the end.

Oh, and the girl with leprosy that I haven't actually mentioned yet, she hates me. She has leprosy. On her face. Therefore her opinion doesn't count. I'm awesome.

I'm interesting enough to write a blog, right?

In short, yes. Yes I am.

I decided that for my New Year's Resolution I would start a blog. The reasons behind this decision are vague (I do remember vodka...), but I'm doing it. I worked up the courage to start the blog and I've spent all day trying to decide what I want to write about for my first blog post. Honestly, I still have no clue and now I've wasted an entire day. Awesome. So now, here I sit in front of a monster of a laptop, my hands ache and my back hurts. I'm also writing about nothing. More awesome.

Why am I starting a blog? Do I really have anything important to say? Will my words change the world? Will anyone be better for reading them? Where do babies come from? All of these questions have been bouncing around my head all day like...well like things that bounce and stuff. I really don't know. (Well, I know some of them. OK, I know one of them. *cut to 5th grade sex ed. and me, a little gay kid completely disgusted with vajayjays) But really, why?

I've decided that it is for myself. I know that someone, somewhere will read this (they're probably from Misery, wait, Missouri...oops) but it's not for them. I hope I'll make someone laugh, but most importantly I hope that I laugh. I hope that I have fun. I hope that I can have an outlet for my frustration, my sadness, and most of all, my happiness. I also hope to be skinny and coast through life on my charm and boyish good looks. Baby steps, whimsy, baby steps.

Honestly, for once in my life I hope to actually stick to a New Year's Resolution. (First AND last post ever? Let's hope not.)