soliloquy of whimsy

Title Goes Here

2011-04-03T23:49:00.005-04:00

My papaw is in the hospital. He has congestive heart failure. I'm having self esteem and self worth issues. I feel like no one ever listens when I talk. I'm in love with a person who's completely oblivious to the fact that I'm even here. That love makes me hate myself. I feel lost. My wheels are spinning in place. I'm going nowhere fast. I don't know which is more scary: success or failure. I don't know how I could possibly mess my life up any more. I'm on the verge of tears all of the time. I'm afraid of things that shouldn't even be problems. I saw my friend curl up comfortably into a ball under a hoodie of mine all the while having extra space and I didn't eat for two days. Even now the thought is enough for me to skip a solid meal or two. I keep thinking about my Aunt Joy and how I can't stand to lose anyone else in my family right now. I don't know how I could handle it. I'm frustrated and disappointed constantly with those closest to me. I want to punch something. These are the things I'm feeling and this is the only way they'll come out. Yay, prose.

I'm unhappy.

2011-01-28T13:50:00.003-05:00

I don't have anything witty to say, or anything clever. I just needed to be honest for once and just say it. I'm unhappy. I'm starting to forget those once familiar feelings of elation, of joy. I feel like my world stopped when my aunt passed. I haven't been able to muster an honest smile. The kind that you don't feel with your face, but the kind that you feel with everything you are. I used to be like that. I used to really laugh. I used to really smile. I always put up a front. I don't like to let people in. I just sing, gloss over life, tell every one that it's OK. I'm not. I'm not OK. I keep dropping hints that I need someone to just listen for a change and not a single person shuts their mouth to open an ear. I'm not angry. I understand. We all have lives to live. I just wish that the pause button wasn't stuck on mine. It's like I'm trapped in the moment that I found out that my Joy died. January sucks.

Today's also my younger brother's birthday. He would have been 20 today. Which, I admit, is the most bizarre thought to me. I can't picture him past that little blond-haired, blue-eyed baby boy that he remains as in my memories. You know what, I'm just going to go on for a minute here. It's my blog after all.

I have three memories of Kyle, my little buddy. I remember one morning when my mom was having trouble waking him up, as he was always a really heavy sleeper. I don't know if that was just how he was or if it was just the disease that he had. There's not a lot known about his disease, which means no one probably knows. But anyway, I remember I took one of his favorite toys, the kind where you either turn a little knob or push a buttion and it makes a fun little noise and a little figure pops up. If memory serves, it was a Sesame Street toy. I remember thinking Groucho was funny. So, I took the toy, laid it next to his head, and then just started pressing the buttons, one by one until I heard my little brother start crying.

Another time I remember standing in his bedroom while my mom was holding him on the floor. You couldn't really ever put him down because he would start crying since he couldn't breathe lying flat. I went into the kitchen and grabbed two baggies from a drawer. I put them on my hands like they were rubber gloves. My mom asked me what I was doing and I told her that I was pretending to be a doctor. She asked why. I said it was because it's all that Kyle knows and I wanted to play something that he liked. My brother was in and out of the hospital for his entire life. Once they figured out what he had they realized that there was nothing that they could do.

I have one more memory of my younger brother. As part of his treatment he was forced to sit in a carseat and suck on albuterol for a while a couple of times per day. My mom would always use this time to her andvantage and go outside to smoke. I would sit right in front of my brother the entire time she was smoking. I would just plop down and talk to him. I knew how much he hated his machine. He would cry and fuss; but, if I was talking to him he would calm down just a little bit. My last memory of him was when I was chatting up a storm, and while I did so my brother fell asleep. I knew how much he hated that thing. It was weird for him to fall asleep. I got scared but I couldn't really figure out why. I ran over to my brother, who was three years older, and told him that Kyle was asleep. He didn't understand why I was panicked and said "Let him sleep." I ran, frustrated, to my other brother, eight years my senior. "Kyle's asleep! He's asleep!" I kept crying. My elder sibling was just like "So, what?". I run down the hall to the front door just as my mom is coming in, I was screaming "He's asleep! He's asleep!". She understood what I meant immediately. She took him into her arms and yelled for my dad. I went to wake him up. He understood, too. My father called 911. I watched them take my brother away. I never saw him again.

Those are the first three memories of my life. I don't remember anything before that. It was like that was when my life started.

See, this is all I wanted. I wanted someone to just hear me out for a minute. I feel better now that I have just talked. I didn't even talk about what I really wanted to talk about, but it helped. Thank you all.

Aim for the moon, because even if you miss you'll land in the vacuum of space and die a rather quick, painful death as your blood essentially boils.

2010-03-04T11:50:00.003-05:00

Best. Title. Ever. EVER.

I've been in quite the funk for about a week now. It's not like me to be depressed, or even sad in the slightest of ways. I usually go from happy to pissed and skip the doldrums altogether. In fact, my little motto is "I don't do sadness, not even a little bit. I just don't need it in my life. I don't want any part of it.". It's from Spring Awakening, yeah be jealous. I figure the best way to get out of this little rut of a life is to set goals for myself. Nothing too extreme, just things to which if I were to put my mind I could actually achieve.

So here is what I deem a very doable list of things that need doing and/or things that should have been done a long time ago and that I'm finally getting around to doing.

1) Get myself some job.

2) Get myself some car.

3) Stop using the turn of phrase "get myself some" unless I'm actually going to "get myself some".

4) Move out.

5) Lose 50 lbs before I start school back up.

6) Start school back up

7) Broaden my culinary horizons by foraying into the realms of cheese making and meat curing.

8) Go to another country.

I think that that list is reasonable. Si, se puede. Maybe if I feel like I'm accomplishing something I'll feel better. Adapt and overcome. WWGRD? Why do you have so many positive sayings to make you feel better? Why are you speaking in third person all of a sudden? Why are you so damn sexy? Why not, people? Why not?

Music for the Moment- "Light"

2010-03-01T14:34:00.005-05:00

I feel like I talk about music a lot, but I love music. So...cope. That's what I'm doing. In fact, that's what I'm trying to do. I use music to help me cope with life, and I feel like that's what I need to be doing right now. Friday-Sadness. Saturday-Hope. Sunday-Recovery. Today-Back to sadness, a little bit.

Today is the first day of term for my former fellow culinarians. I'm sitting at home doing some housework, listening to a lot of music, and trying to find me some job. I recently procured (through completely legal means) a copy of the soundtrack to Next to Normal. It's helping get through this time. I figure this is a healthier coping mechanism than, say, alcohol.

I can relate to this musical, which is why I love it so much. It's about a family coping with a mother's craziness after her son dies. He dies as an infant but she entertains delusions of his existence sixteen years later. She eventually tries to commit suicide and we follow her through her and her family's recoveries. I relate to this musical inasmuch as my younger brother died and my mom never fully recovered. She has attempted suicide more times than I can count through various means. She's a little crazy, but I love her anyway.

This song is the finale. I've listened to it a million times. This song just says a lot of things that I can't.

"Light" - Next to Normal

We need some light.
First of all, we need some light.
You can't sit here in the dark.
And all alone, it's a sorry sight.
It's just you and me.
We'll live, you'll see.

Night after night,
We'd sit and wait for the morning light.
But we've waited far too long,
For all that's wrong to be made right.

Day after day,
Wishing all our cares away.
Trying to fight the things we feel,
But some hurts never heal.
Some ghost are never gone,
But we go on,
We still go on.

And you find some way to survive
And you find out you don't have to be happy at all,
To be happier alive.

Day after day,
Give me clouds, and rain and gray.
Give me pain, if that's what's real.
It's the price we pay to feel.
The price of love is loss,
But still we pay.
We love anyway.

And when the night has finally gone.
And when we see the new day dawn.
We'll wonder how we wandered for so long, so blind.
The wasted world we thought we knew,
The light will make it look brand new.
So

Let it
Let it
Let it
Let it
Let it
Shine, shine, shine.

Day after day (day after day),
We'll find the will to find our way.
Knowing that the darkest skies will someday see the sun.
When our long night is done,
There will be light.

(There will be light.
There will be light.)

There will be light.
When we open up our lives.
Sons and daughters, husbands, wives.
Can fight that fight.
There will be light.
There will be light.
There will be light.
There will be light.

I feel like this song is going to keep me sane, and if I've learned anything from this musical it's that sanity is a good thing.

Coffee again; Still no alcohol, but plenty of hope.

2010-02-27T13:05:00.006-05:00

I just rolled my eyes at that title. Wow, I even unimpress myself. Sweet. I'm not changing it. Effort people, effort.

So, I've had a night to ruminate on yesterday. It sucked. Everybody knows that. But today feels different. Today I have hope. I know that I'm not done. I'm going to keep on learning, except now it's more like an independent study. I'm home schooling myself. I'm going to try new things, and I'm going to rock them. I'm going to cure meats, make cheese. I can do it, and you know why? Because I believe that I can. I'm not afraid.

That's something I've come to learn, and it's probably the most important lesson in all of cooking. Don't be afraid. Try new things, do something new and different. If someone asks me if I can make something the first thing to come out of my mouth is YES. Well, I don't yell it. That was for emphasis. OK, I yell it sometimes.

I earnestly believe that there is nothing that is impossible for me to cook. I have confidence in myself, and I don't think that it's completely unfounded. Am I the best chef in all the land? Not yet, no. But I have drive, ambition, and a thirst for this life. I may trip; I may fumble; I may even fall flat on my fucking face. I'll get up, brush myself off, and keep on cooking.

That's all that yesterday was. I tripped over my own two feet. Today I'm standing back up. This time I'm making sure that my shoes are tied before I run around the kitchen. I'm learning. I'm becoming a better person. I'm becoming a better chef.

And on a last note, I'm listening to all of the music in my library on my computer and it's on shuffle. It just started playing "For Good" from Wicked. That song was for yesterday. Today, "The Bitch is Back".

I'm drinking coffee and there's not even alcohol in it...fail.

2010-02-26T21:04:00.002-05:00

Today was the worst day of my life. It was my last day of culinary school. I went to school, cleaned, signed my withdrawal form, and left. It seems fitting somehow that today was a complete nonevent. No one mentioned that I wouldn't be there on Monday; but, it's better that way because I would have lost it if they had. I probably won't see most of those people ever again, which is OK. They'll forget me as I'll forget them. They may think about that one kid that sang a lot, but that's the closest they'll come to remembering me. I'll weave my way seamlessly out of their lives, as if I was never a part of it at all.

I felt numb on the way home. I wanted to feel something but I just couldn't. It may seem like I'm over reacting right now, but I'm just having some problems coping at the moment. Right now I feel like I did in high school, back in the dark ages. Those times where I just wasn't me. Back before I came to terms with who I was. I feel lost. There's a fog around me and everywhere I turn there is nothing, no one. I'm just done. I'm going to sleep and maybe I'll feel human when I wake up in the morning. If I'm lucky I won't.

Whatever.

I'm a grammar Nazi, mein Freund.

2010-02-22T08:13:00.004-05:00

I also don't speak German. So, here's the deal. I love language. I'm the kid that likes to read books on English grammar just so that I can lord minute details of my native tongue over my peers. My biggest pet peeves in the world are who v. whom, ending sentences with prepositions(or prepositional phrases), and the simple things like their v. there v. they're. Am I guilty of these things occasionally? Yes, yes I am. Are these crimes so heinous that one should face a tribunal upon their(see, here is where this one goes.) committal? Maybe.

There is one crime, one horrible act against English nature the for the likes of which I shall never be at fault. That is legitly. I just threw up a little. Those sounds should never be uttered in sequence. Legit? With that I can deal. However, if you add an -ly trying to make it an adverb, fuck you in the ass with something hard and sand-papery. You cannot go around taking the middle out of words all willy-nilly. The establishment will fall people, it will fall! Thinking of which, Heinz, fuck you, too. Est'd? Really? REALLY?!? Burn in hell!

OK, I may have lost my shit there a little. Whimsy, calm the fuck down.

I have one more thing to about which to bitch. I know that recently(by "recently" I mean the last couple of years) it has officially been deemed "correct" to end a sentence with a preposition. I have one thing to say: Homo don't play that game (Yes, I refer to myself as Homo. Yes, you are jealous.). Also, it is not OK. You're wrong, I am right. Na na na na boo boo, stick your head in doo-doo. No truer words have ever been spoken. Also also, I took great care to not end sentences with prepositions in this post. It's a little awkward at times, but you'll deal.

And I'm spent.

Music for the Moment - "I Am What I Am"

2010-02-16T22:43:00.004-05:00

I recently discovered this song. This song am I. If you don't agree you're stupid. And ugly. And possibly a little bit republican(let's face it, republicans don't read this blog.) This song is from a musical called "La Cage Aux Folles", also known as "The Birdcage". As in the movie starring Robin Williams and Nathan Lane. Both the musical and the movie come from the play. In the musical version, the song is sung by the character that in the movie is played by Nathan Lane. The number is performed by a man in drag(let's face it, I would look GREAT as a drag queen) when he finds out that his son is ashamed of having two dads. The bitch.

Just as a reminder:

"I Am What I Am" - La Cage Aux Folles

I am what I am
I am my own special creation.
So come take a look,
Give me the hook or the ovation.
It's my world that I want to take a little pride in,
My world, and it's not a place I have to hide in.
Life's not worth a damn,
'Til you can say, "Hey world, I am what I am."
I am what I am,
I don't want praise, I don't want pity.
I bang my own drum,
Some think it's noise, I think it's pretty.
And so what, if I love each feather and each spangle,
Why not try to see things from a diff'rent angle?
Your life is a sham 'til you can shout out loud
I am what I am!
I am what I am
And what I am needs no excuses.
I deal my own deck
Sometimes the ace, sometimes the deuces.
There's one life, and there's no return and no deposit;
One life, so it's time to open up your closet.
Life's not worth a damn 'til you can say,
"Hey world, I am what I am!"

For cereal, this song is me. I love it ever so much.

Why I'm awesome, Volume II

2010-02-10T22:32:00.005-05:00

So, all two and half people who read this blog know that come March my schedule is going to free up a bit. By "a bit" I mean that CCI is kicking me to the curb and the only life that I've had for a long time is going to end. I'm one of those people who carries the belief/hope/delusion that when God closes a door, he opens a window. So when I heard that "Glee" is holding open casting calls to fill three slots in its second season I thought that maybe I had found the window for which I was searching. This is a big leap of faith for me. I don't personally feel like I have any talent whatsoever and that generally I'm a big waste of space. I do certain things, such as singing, because I like to, not because I'm good at them. Same with cooking. I tell myself I'm awesome every single day in the hopes that maybe that one time I'll actually believe it.

Now comes the audition tape. I'm at a loss for this. I've done auditions before. I know the kind of thing I have to do. I know I need to sing and I know that I need to act. I have two monologues chosen, one is dramatic and one is comedic. Both involve me being gay. Is that a bad thing? Should I really just wear it on my sleeve like that? I mean, let's be honest, it's not like I can hide it. I've tried. Erratic can attest to that. She saw right through me. The song, I have no clue what I want to sing. Suggestions are welcome. Why do I fail so hard?

Oh, and the reason I'm awesome? I'm doing this. That has to count for something, right? Worst come to worse I go back to culinary school and pretend to be awesome there.

Music for the Moment - "They Don't Make Glass Slippers"

2010-02-08T22:43:00.004-05:00

So, anyone who's anyone knows about the impending demise of all of my hopes and dreams that is my withdrawal from culinary school. I know that it's only temporary. I know that I'll go back again. These things give me no comfort. It sucks. I've met so many people that have changed my life, ones that will stay in it forever. Well, maybe that's more "person" than "people" (let's say that her name rhymes with "schmerratic"). I don't want to go there. I'm a mess and it will only get worse if I go into it too deeply. Back to music. There are a million songs I could use to describe my abject misery, but I feel like this particular one best describes the hopelessness that resides in the dark vacuum of bitter hatred that was once my soul (I'm nothing if not dramatic). The song is called "They Don't Make Glass Slippers" by Daniel Boys, though the link is to the much less awesome Gareth Gates.

Once upon a time

There was just a little boy

And he thought the whole world was his

Wasn't very old when he came to find out

That that's not how it is

They don't make glass slippers

It's no great surprise

If they make glass slippers

They don't have my size

Happy ever afters

Always turn out wrong

No fairy godmother pops up

To help things along

They don't make glass slippers

Pretty as they seem

Trouble is glass slippers

Shatter like a dream

Why don't handsome princes

Practice what they preach

Magical kingdoms are always

Just out of my reach

Once upon a time

There was just a little boy

And he thought the whole world was his

Wasn't very old when he came to find out

That that's not how it is

Once upon a time

There was just a little boy

And he thought the whole world was his

Wasn't very old when he came to find out

That that's not how it is

They don't make glass slippers

It's no great surprise

If they make glass slippers

They don't have my size

Happy ever afters

Always turn out wrong

No fairy godmother pops up

To help things along

No fairy godmother pops up

To help things along

This song is the fucking story of my life. WHERE IS MY FAIRY GODMOTHER(emphasis on the fairy)? I had to end on a gay joke. I'll survive...but that's a different song for a different day.

I am going to poke these men. Well, technically they are going to poke me.

2010-02-05T19:32:00.006-05:00

After the last post I figured that I better gay this blog up, drape some garland from the buttresses and shit some glitter. Following is the list of men to whom I would gladly do dirty things. The list is mainly comprised of singers/actors, with the exception of one journalist. Once again, apparently your boneability is directly linked to your vocal ability. It's also worth mentioning that three of the five play Mark in "RENT" at some point in their career. I'm so cool. Apparently I just want men to sing to me. And then put it in. What? One more thing, it turns out that they're all gay. That's very important to me. They have to be gay. Or drunk. Same thing.

5. Anthony Rapp- The original Mark. I just really love his voice. He also played Charlie Brown in "You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown". Wait, does that make me a pedophile? Sweet. I've got candy kids, I've got candy.

4. NPH- Also a Mark. Look at him, he's adorable. That and he decapitated himself on Ellen. Youtube it. It happened.

3.Adam Kantor- Yet another Mark. Maybe it's the character. I mean, every time that I see RENT my pants do seem to get a little bit smaller. Yeah, that happened. Also when I downloaded this picture it was under "Jews to watch for". I would do so many things to his salty Matzo Balls. I went there. Is anyone surprised?

2.Anderson Cooper- He's new to the team. Well, not really. We've been waiting for him to come out for a very long time, and by "we" I mean myself and the idol I keep of him made out of chewed gum and used tissues. It's under my bed...for now.

1.Daniel Boys- He's a British musical theater actor that was most recently seen playing Princeton/Rod in "Avenue Q" on the West End. Lets just say this: He's welcome on my West End anytime. (For those of you not in the know the West End is the British equivalent to Broadway...and a not so subtle euphemism for my anus.)

I've just decided that I should probably stop writing posts like this. I have a lot of pent up sexual energy. For Christ's sake you would too if you were a 21 year old gay virgin waiting for the "right" gay. Yeah, I typed gay. I meant to. Don't be jealous. Right now I feel like I'm rambling. Four cups of coffee makes me crazy. I'm just going to go call Erratic. Gayest post ever? I think so.

Girls with whom I would bump uglies.

2010-01-25T13:33:00.009-05:00

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"

2010-01-22T08:25:00.003-05:00

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

2010-01-12T21:24:00.005-05:00

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.

2010-01-09T15:43:00.005-05:00

*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.

2010-01-05T08:03:00.004-05:00

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?

2010-01-04T00:23:00.005-05:00

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.)