All I want is for my life to have meaning. Do you ever find yourself talking to yourself? Kind of makes you feel a little looney.
Often times I am lonely. I HATE feeling lonely. I grew up for the most part as an only child--lonely. I've not had many friends that have been totally able to understand me and therefore I've kept a lot inside--lonely. I recently lost my best friend of 2 1/2 years and the past 6 months have been well, lonely ones. Basically, I'm lonely. That's ok, I know that this will be a common theme in my life and I need to deal with it but it's hard to feel comfortable with the idea of being lonely when the thing you fear the most and hate the most is being lonely.
I have a lot of love to give. But all I ask in return is to be loved. Seems simple, well...it's not. Sometimes my overwhelming need to be loved in return does just the opposite. And thus, I am alone.
So, in an effort to deal with it, I'm writing about it. I think now maybe I'll finish my wine and go to bed, alone.
Good night, all. :)
Friday, December 28, 2007
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Rejection
Rejection is sometimes comical and maybe even helpful. But when it's hurtful, that's the worst kind.
Last night, after being rejected by a woman the day before who I had very intense feelings for, I got rejected by another woman at the lesbian bar that I go to in downtown Atlanta. This girl is hot. But she's also a player. I hit on her and she literally walked away from me. Then a half hour later she came over to dance with me. I was my normal witty comical self. She laughed and then walked away again after the dancing was over. Being rejected that many times in one week, is like really shitty. Other than that though I had a fabulous time and made a lot of new friends.
And I suppose the fact that I put myself out there is really healthy, it's just the harsh response that made me feel shitty. So I supposed feeling shitty can be healthy sometimes?
Je ne said pas? C'est la vie.
Last night, after being rejected by a woman the day before who I had very intense feelings for, I got rejected by another woman at the lesbian bar that I go to in downtown Atlanta. This girl is hot. But she's also a player. I hit on her and she literally walked away from me. Then a half hour later she came over to dance with me. I was my normal witty comical self. She laughed and then walked away again after the dancing was over. Being rejected that many times in one week, is like really shitty. Other than that though I had a fabulous time and made a lot of new friends.
And I suppose the fact that I put myself out there is really healthy, it's just the harsh response that made me feel shitty. So I supposed feeling shitty can be healthy sometimes?
Je ne said pas? C'est la vie.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Aching
So, I'm a psychology major at a small liberal arts school in the middle-of-nowhere Tennessee. I recently fell in love with a woman who appreciates me for who I am. (how very Bridget Jones) She did not reciprocate my feelings, and I did not know why, until tonight.
You see, she has her eye on the goal. And the life she leads is this unwavering line that flows straight for that goal. She knows what she wants, whereas I am still defining those goals. I lack the steady hand to draw such a line.
A friendship where each party appreciates one another and values one another without expectation has never occured in my life, with exception to my soul brother back at the university. The fact that this girl is gay and therefore a potential 'mate,' for lack of a better word, caused me to misconstrue her honesty and good intentions. Now, maybe I'm delusional and neurotic and over-analytical in Freudian terms, but the fact that I misconstrued and illusioned to the point that I have really says something to me. It's a wake up call to my existence. I cannot keep doing this to myself.
I am gay. I am 22 years old. I do not have all the answers. I allow myself to get walked all over and I suppose to some extent, I seek out people romantically who will let me need them. I am not perfect. And one of my goals is to not feel guilt, but I do, probably most of the time.
I need to be single, probably for the rest of my life, in order to live that life to the fullest. I want to be able to say and feel what I want and need to whenever I want and need to. I want to get drunk and high and have conversations and not have regrets, ever. And for the past four months, I have been able to do that, and I have grown so much in the past four months--more so than in the two and a half years that preceded the last four months.
I recently took a Cognitive Psychology class at the university. The course was all about Consciousness and Unconsciousness. How the conscious portions of the being think they know everything and really what's going on is the unconscious portions are guiding the conscious portions and so therefore, we, as humans, will never be able to fully understand ourselves. Therefore, we require a community of individuals to help us along our path through life. We require this in order to obtain a full understanding of ourselves. My problem is that I'm alone, with no one to help guide me because a)I'm too stubborn and b)I'm a misconstruer and c)I think I know everything.
So, I am sad and alone and broke and broken and continue to be walked all over. And I don't really know what to do about that. But I feel that my friend, the one that I was in love with on my own, without reciprocity, can help me to find those answers. So my questions are these:
How and when do I go about cultivating that soulful relationship? and how do I say I'm sorry for my misconceptions without feeling ashamed for them? and how do I learn to love her as a friend without the pain of loss for what I thought could have been? and how do I convince my conscious self that this is true, because I know it is, I know that she's a valuable friend that I just happened to meet in a really sticky portion and in a really icky context of my life?
You see, she has her eye on the goal. And the life she leads is this unwavering line that flows straight for that goal. She knows what she wants, whereas I am still defining those goals. I lack the steady hand to draw such a line.
A friendship where each party appreciates one another and values one another without expectation has never occured in my life, with exception to my soul brother back at the university. The fact that this girl is gay and therefore a potential 'mate,' for lack of a better word, caused me to misconstrue her honesty and good intentions. Now, maybe I'm delusional and neurotic and over-analytical in Freudian terms, but the fact that I misconstrued and illusioned to the point that I have really says something to me. It's a wake up call to my existence. I cannot keep doing this to myself.
I am gay. I am 22 years old. I do not have all the answers. I allow myself to get walked all over and I suppose to some extent, I seek out people romantically who will let me need them. I am not perfect. And one of my goals is to not feel guilt, but I do, probably most of the time.
I need to be single, probably for the rest of my life, in order to live that life to the fullest. I want to be able to say and feel what I want and need to whenever I want and need to. I want to get drunk and high and have conversations and not have regrets, ever. And for the past four months, I have been able to do that, and I have grown so much in the past four months--more so than in the two and a half years that preceded the last four months.
I recently took a Cognitive Psychology class at the university. The course was all about Consciousness and Unconsciousness. How the conscious portions of the being think they know everything and really what's going on is the unconscious portions are guiding the conscious portions and so therefore, we, as humans, will never be able to fully understand ourselves. Therefore, we require a community of individuals to help us along our path through life. We require this in order to obtain a full understanding of ourselves. My problem is that I'm alone, with no one to help guide me because a)I'm too stubborn and b)I'm a misconstruer and c)I think I know everything.
So, I am sad and alone and broke and broken and continue to be walked all over. And I don't really know what to do about that. But I feel that my friend, the one that I was in love with on my own, without reciprocity, can help me to find those answers. So my questions are these:
How and when do I go about cultivating that soulful relationship? and how do I say I'm sorry for my misconceptions without feeling ashamed for them? and how do I learn to love her as a friend without the pain of loss for what I thought could have been? and how do I convince my conscious self that this is true, because I know it is, I know that she's a valuable friend that I just happened to meet in a really sticky portion and in a really icky context of my life?
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
I may just cry
I saw several things today that made me think to myself, or say to someone around me, "I may just cry."
The first occured at the pharmacy. I got several prescriptions filled. I sat in the waiting area and when the blonde-headed lady called my name, "Miss Kennedy!" I'm sure my face gave a wincing expression that could only convey sheer agony. I was anticipating the cost of the medications. "Ok," I told myself, "brace yourself." When she told me the total cost would be $6.18, I let out a little yelp and said the phrase, 'thank you,' like I had just been given a Grammy or something. After I paid, and we were waiting for my receipt to print, I told her, "I'm so happy, I may just cry." She smiled.
The second occured when I found out that Tila Tequila chose Bobby over Dani on "A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila." "That fucking whore!" I yelled at the computer screen, when I read about it this morning. "I may just cry, poor Dani."
Then this evening, I was sitting in a Starbucks, quietly enjoying my chai tea and planning my Christmas break. There was this man sitting in front of me sunk into an arm chair. I could see half of his face and he seemed lost and wandering. Sort of sad really, I thought to myself, "I may just cry for him."
And finally, tonight I am watching Castaway on TBS. I love this movie and I also hate it. The part where Chuck is floating along on the raft and Wilson falls off into the ocean, that part is so sad. When he swims out to get Wilson and he can't reach and he has to choose between WIlson and staying alive. The isolation that he must have felt, my god. It is like that of Sala in "Letters to Sala." It brings me to tears everytime. I may just cry.
The first occured at the pharmacy. I got several prescriptions filled. I sat in the waiting area and when the blonde-headed lady called my name, "Miss Kennedy!" I'm sure my face gave a wincing expression that could only convey sheer agony. I was anticipating the cost of the medications. "Ok," I told myself, "brace yourself." When she told me the total cost would be $6.18, I let out a little yelp and said the phrase, 'thank you,' like I had just been given a Grammy or something. After I paid, and we were waiting for my receipt to print, I told her, "I'm so happy, I may just cry." She smiled.
The second occured when I found out that Tila Tequila chose Bobby over Dani on "A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila." "That fucking whore!" I yelled at the computer screen, when I read about it this morning. "I may just cry, poor Dani."
Then this evening, I was sitting in a Starbucks, quietly enjoying my chai tea and planning my Christmas break. There was this man sitting in front of me sunk into an arm chair. I could see half of his face and he seemed lost and wandering. Sort of sad really, I thought to myself, "I may just cry for him."
And finally, tonight I am watching Castaway on TBS. I love this movie and I also hate it. The part where Chuck is floating along on the raft and Wilson falls off into the ocean, that part is so sad. When he swims out to get Wilson and he can't reach and he has to choose between WIlson and staying alive. The isolation that he must have felt, my god. It is like that of Sala in "Letters to Sala." It brings me to tears everytime. I may just cry.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Update, because I like to pretend that people care
Because I know you all have been worried sick about my condition. If not, that's ok, you can still send me a get well card. Also, please enclose money--tens and twenties.
I am not dying. Well, I am...but in a more normative sense. Sinus infection--nah. Bronchitis--yes. Bladder infection--nah. What Kate calls 'whohah infection'--yes. (To which she replied, "poor whohah.") What I thought was surely cutaneous staph infection turned out to be poison ivy. Lots of pills and thangs.
Synopsis:
Send money, poor whohah, lots of pills.
Other updates:
1. Countdown til Christmas: 8 days
2. Countdown til I kill my ex for ruining my life: 3 days
3. Countdown til I get the fuck out of here: 21 hours
4. Number of exams left: 1
5. Packing completed: nilch
6. Hours slept last night: 7
7. Pills taken today: 9
7. Number of harassing emails received: 1
Also, I wore flannel to class today. And two people complimented it. :)
I am not dying. Well, I am...but in a more normative sense. Sinus infection--nah. Bronchitis--yes. Bladder infection--nah. What Kate calls 'whohah infection'--yes. (To which she replied, "poor whohah.") What I thought was surely cutaneous staph infection turned out to be poison ivy. Lots of pills and thangs.
Synopsis:
Send money, poor whohah, lots of pills.
Other updates:
1. Countdown til Christmas: 8 days
2. Countdown til I kill my ex for ruining my life: 3 days
3. Countdown til I get the fuck out of here: 21 hours
4. Number of exams left: 1
5. Packing completed: nilch
6. Hours slept last night: 7
7. Pills taken today: 9
7. Number of harassing emails received: 1
Also, I wore flannel to class today. And two people complimented it. :)
Sunday, December 16, 2007
dear mr. president
So, I just re-watched season four of the L Word because I'm sick again, and it seems that's the only time I ever watch L word anymore.
If there's one thing Ilene Chaiken did right this year it was the season finale. Firstly, Pink's Dear Mr. President is amazing. Everyone should youtube it and watch/listen to it.
Secondly, the scene where Shane and Paige are fucking to Before we Begin is oh my god. So Good. I love the contrast of the modern lesbian couple with their tattoos and nipple piercings with that of the suburban white picket fence family of the 1950's. So radical; such a great statement. I was having this same type of discussion with my Women's Studies professor here in Sewanee a few weeks ago. We were talking about lesbians today who want the traditional family lifestyle in the suburbs. I wasn't sure what to say about it then, and I'm still not sure if I have much of an opinion now, but damn...that was a hot scene, thanks Ilene.
If there's one thing Ilene Chaiken did right this year it was the season finale. Firstly, Pink's Dear Mr. President is amazing. Everyone should youtube it and watch/listen to it.
Secondly, the scene where Shane and Paige are fucking to Before we Begin is oh my god. So Good. I love the contrast of the modern lesbian couple with their tattoos and nipple piercings with that of the suburban white picket fence family of the 1950's. So radical; such a great statement. I was having this same type of discussion with my Women's Studies professor here in Sewanee a few weeks ago. We were talking about lesbians today who want the traditional family lifestyle in the suburbs. I wasn't sure what to say about it then, and I'm still not sure if I have much of an opinion now, but damn...that was a hot scene, thanks Ilene.
Dear My Body,
Why do you hate me so? What have I ever done to you that would deserve such irrational responses. So I smoke cigarettes and drink beer ocassionally, is that really all that bad. It helps you to relax. I give you baths regularly and feed you good food like salad and chicken and cucumbers everyday! Why are you sick with four different infections. Not fair. And during exam week. Body, you and I are gonna have to have a chat when all is better. I promise I will smoke less and exercise more. But you have to do your part too. No more invitations to bacteria and the like. Deal?
Love,
Sam
Why do you hate me so? What have I ever done to you that would deserve such irrational responses. So I smoke cigarettes and drink beer ocassionally, is that really all that bad. It helps you to relax. I give you baths regularly and feed you good food like salad and chicken and cucumbers everyday! Why are you sick with four different infections. Not fair. And during exam week. Body, you and I are gonna have to have a chat when all is better. I promise I will smoke less and exercise more. But you have to do your part too. No more invitations to bacteria and the like. Deal?
Love,
Sam
Friday, December 14, 2007
My useless day
So, this morning I was awakened at 7:30 by people in the basement of my building drilling through the walls in the stairwell. The stairwell just happens to be right next to my room, and it echoes big time. Joy.
As soon as I woke up, I wished that I hadn't. My throat screamed and my sinuses ached. I am sick. Also, I started my period. Like, what the fuck, body? Get it together?! I then told my body that today was supposed to be used for studying for my three upcoming exams. One of which is tomorrow. It didn't care. Here's what I did instead:
I went to the bank, I went to the gas station and I went to McDonalds. Then I sat on the big suede chair at the sorority house and watched the ANTM Marathon for 4 hours in my emotional pseudophedrine induced state. Then my mom called me and made me cry. She asked why I went to see a therapist this week. I told her I didn't want to talk about it. Then she decided that it would be best to play twenty questions to see if she could guess why. End result: well, I already mentioned the crying part. After that I went to dinner and had some crap pizza. Then I came home and here I sit, trying to study for my exam. My friend Katie came over to bring me some tea. As we sat talking three other friends came into my room and we were all talking. Then just as soon as I started to feel a little better, the framed poster that hangs above my bed abruptly fell on my head. I screamed "mother fucker!" and then I cried...again...in front of four other people. It was sort of a sob and everyone just kind of stood there awkwardly, except for Katie, who, thank god, became my mom and protected me from the embarassment of it all. I think the worse part of the whole situation was the fact that I firmly believe that when you are in your own bed, nothing bad can happen to you. If you've had a bad day, getting into bed can make it all better. Well..let's just say, I've never had a bad experience in my bed (keep your imaginations in check). But I suppose I've been proven wrong.
I know when I wake up in the morning and the pseudophedrine has worn off, the bump on my head has subsided and the cramps in my lower back are no more...I will laugh at this whole entire day...but until then, I am going to lay here with my box of Fred's brand Kleenex and ignore my studying and probably read some Anne Lamott.
Happy Friday everyone.
As soon as I woke up, I wished that I hadn't. My throat screamed and my sinuses ached. I am sick. Also, I started my period. Like, what the fuck, body? Get it together?! I then told my body that today was supposed to be used for studying for my three upcoming exams. One of which is tomorrow. It didn't care. Here's what I did instead:
I went to the bank, I went to the gas station and I went to McDonalds. Then I sat on the big suede chair at the sorority house and watched the ANTM Marathon for 4 hours in my emotional pseudophedrine induced state. Then my mom called me and made me cry. She asked why I went to see a therapist this week. I told her I didn't want to talk about it. Then she decided that it would be best to play twenty questions to see if she could guess why. End result: well, I already mentioned the crying part. After that I went to dinner and had some crap pizza. Then I came home and here I sit, trying to study for my exam. My friend Katie came over to bring me some tea. As we sat talking three other friends came into my room and we were all talking. Then just as soon as I started to feel a little better, the framed poster that hangs above my bed abruptly fell on my head. I screamed "mother fucker!" and then I cried...again...in front of four other people. It was sort of a sob and everyone just kind of stood there awkwardly, except for Katie, who, thank god, became my mom and protected me from the embarassment of it all. I think the worse part of the whole situation was the fact that I firmly believe that when you are in your own bed, nothing bad can happen to you. If you've had a bad day, getting into bed can make it all better. Well..let's just say, I've never had a bad experience in my bed (keep your imaginations in check). But I suppose I've been proven wrong.
I know when I wake up in the morning and the pseudophedrine has worn off, the bump on my head has subsided and the cramps in my lower back are no more...I will laugh at this whole entire day...but until then, I am going to lay here with my box of Fred's brand Kleenex and ignore my studying and probably read some Anne Lamott.
Happy Friday everyone.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
One of these things is not like the other
Firstly, today has been insanely crazy. It is 8:30 and I am seriously considering going to be in the next hour which, by the way, is totally uncharacteristic of me.
Secondly, Pandora is probably the best invention ever.
I woke up this morning, got to the library (only 10 minutes late) and my boss informs me that I could have waited to come for another hour since it was so slow. I then proceeded to sit there for three hours and basically do nothing except be hungry. Then, I went to lunch.
After that, I went and raked leaves. And then after that I went to clean someone's house. I have calculated it and I earned $61 today. Also, I put out a friend's fire by offering to loan him my computer for the afternoon tomorrow and I cleaned my room. Well, I thought I cleaned my room until 5 minutes ago when I opened my underwear drawer and proceeded to realize that there is no longer any underwear in there. The drawer has been taken over by the following items:
a bag of cotton balls
a bunch of old holey underwear
old bras that I don't wear anymore
a bag of unopened socks that I stole from my mom
a pair of brown tights
five scarves
a pencil
a necklace
and
a beer coozy
Then, I proceeded to start singing "One of these things is not like the other." Currently I am waiting for my clothes to get done in the washing machine so I can walk the four flights of stairs to go put them in the dryer. I am wearing...a skirt and a bath towel, and I'm hungry. Ok, now I feel like I'm just writing about updates of my life. I really want to watch some L&O right now...but I'm too lazy to go to the first floor to watch tv and also, I'm inappropriately dressed to do so as the first floor is inhabited by human beings with penises--gross.
Secondly, Pandora is probably the best invention ever.
I woke up this morning, got to the library (only 10 minutes late) and my boss informs me that I could have waited to come for another hour since it was so slow. I then proceeded to sit there for three hours and basically do nothing except be hungry. Then, I went to lunch.
After that, I went and raked leaves. And then after that I went to clean someone's house. I have calculated it and I earned $61 today. Also, I put out a friend's fire by offering to loan him my computer for the afternoon tomorrow and I cleaned my room. Well, I thought I cleaned my room until 5 minutes ago when I opened my underwear drawer and proceeded to realize that there is no longer any underwear in there. The drawer has been taken over by the following items:
a bag of cotton balls
a bunch of old holey underwear
old bras that I don't wear anymore
a bag of unopened socks that I stole from my mom
a pair of brown tights
five scarves
a pencil
a necklace
and
a beer coozy
Then, I proceeded to start singing "One of these things is not like the other." Currently I am waiting for my clothes to get done in the washing machine so I can walk the four flights of stairs to go put them in the dryer. I am wearing...a skirt and a bath towel, and I'm hungry. Ok, now I feel like I'm just writing about updates of my life. I really want to watch some L&O right now...but I'm too lazy to go to the first floor to watch tv and also, I'm inappropriately dressed to do so as the first floor is inhabited by human beings with penises--gross.
Some ramblings
It's raining a lot of cats and dogs today people. Don't forget your umbrellas and please remember the words of a very wise actress, "Rain is water which does not come out of faucets."
----------------------------
This morning, I lay dozing soundly in my snuggly bed. The quilt wrapped tightly around my body and my mind dreamed wonderful things. With the window half open, fresh cool air drifted in creating a small wind stream through my room. It was lovely. Then, the garbage truck showed up.
Why on earth do they have that siren that turns on when they're backing up. I mean, they're backing up toward a wooden box, I really don't think that box can hear anything. No matter, it was getting to be about half past late, and I needed to get to work.
----------------------------
Yesterday, my little sister in the sorority gave me my first Christmas present of the season; a beautiful shawl made of bright blue, bright fuschia, golden yellow, and black thread. It is probably one of the nicest gifts anyone has ever given me. She said she bought it back in Texas over the summer; she saw it and knew it must be mine. I am wearing it today, even though it is 75 gazillion degrees in the library and I've got a fan blowing on me. I'm wearing it because it feels like a blanky that I can wrap up in, and this week, I definately need to wear blankies.
----------------------------
Yesterday afternoon, I went to see my new therapist. She's way cool. Her waiting room is nice, AND it smells good. The couch is comfortable, and she has these old movie theatre chairs in there, that have been refurbished. Also, there is smell good lotion next to where my paperwork was and nice relaxing music playing when I entered the door. (If I was an inspector of comfort, she'd have received a 100%). In her office, there is a big sign that says "Believe" in rainbow colored letters. She said I'm allowed to discuss God if I want to, and that she's cool with gay people. Mainly, I just swore a lot.
----------------------------
Right now, I am sitting here thinking about two very important women. Both of which I love dearly and both of which I think don't quite know what to make of me or how to deal with me. One of which I had a fight with last night. We caught a ride home from a party and I got in the way of her mack. I seem to do this a lot now-a-days since I'm not getting my mack on, and therefore, have apparently forgotten about how other people might like to. To my lovely friend who I share everything with: I'm sorry about last night. Please have lunch with me at noon?
The other lovely lady I think of often; she makes me smile. I think I may have freaked her out a few months ago. (I think I freaked myself out a few months ago). Anyway, I'm pretty sure you know who you are. And I just want you to know; I miss you. I don't really know what to do with that or the situation right now. But I'd really love to talk to you, and stat. I'll be home next week, if I don't get snowed in up here. Also, you'll never believe what the soup can man did this morning. Holy moly stromboli!
----------------------------
This morning, I lay dozing soundly in my snuggly bed. The quilt wrapped tightly around my body and my mind dreamed wonderful things. With the window half open, fresh cool air drifted in creating a small wind stream through my room. It was lovely. Then, the garbage truck showed up.
Why on earth do they have that siren that turns on when they're backing up. I mean, they're backing up toward a wooden box, I really don't think that box can hear anything. No matter, it was getting to be about half past late, and I needed to get to work.
----------------------------
Yesterday, my little sister in the sorority gave me my first Christmas present of the season; a beautiful shawl made of bright blue, bright fuschia, golden yellow, and black thread. It is probably one of the nicest gifts anyone has ever given me. She said she bought it back in Texas over the summer; she saw it and knew it must be mine. I am wearing it today, even though it is 75 gazillion degrees in the library and I've got a fan blowing on me. I'm wearing it because it feels like a blanky that I can wrap up in, and this week, I definately need to wear blankies.
----------------------------
Yesterday afternoon, I went to see my new therapist. She's way cool. Her waiting room is nice, AND it smells good. The couch is comfortable, and she has these old movie theatre chairs in there, that have been refurbished. Also, there is smell good lotion next to where my paperwork was and nice relaxing music playing when I entered the door. (If I was an inspector of comfort, she'd have received a 100%). In her office, there is a big sign that says "Believe" in rainbow colored letters. She said I'm allowed to discuss God if I want to, and that she's cool with gay people. Mainly, I just swore a lot.
----------------------------
Right now, I am sitting here thinking about two very important women. Both of which I love dearly and both of which I think don't quite know what to make of me or how to deal with me. One of which I had a fight with last night. We caught a ride home from a party and I got in the way of her mack. I seem to do this a lot now-a-days since I'm not getting my mack on, and therefore, have apparently forgotten about how other people might like to. To my lovely friend who I share everything with: I'm sorry about last night. Please have lunch with me at noon?
The other lovely lady I think of often; she makes me smile. I think I may have freaked her out a few months ago. (I think I freaked myself out a few months ago). Anyway, I'm pretty sure you know who you are. And I just want you to know; I miss you. I don't really know what to do with that or the situation right now. But I'd really love to talk to you, and stat. I'll be home next week, if I don't get snowed in up here. Also, you'll never believe what the soup can man did this morning. Holy moly stromboli!
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
So, I'm a bad person...
Alright people, listen up. You're about to read about a rare event. I am about to admit fault. (Oh God...I can't believe I'm doing this).
So, I'm sure you all read a previous post entitled, "words from a queer feminist," in which I semi-rant about difference in both a negative and positive light. Well, that 'article' was submitted to the school newspaper and after a little editing back and forth between myself and the editor, it was published. I have since received some twenty or so responses to that article from individuals around campus. I, being the pessimist that I am, have been awaiting and expecting the hate mail to arrive. Today, I received it. I opened the envelope and immediately knew what it was when the phrase, "I believe homosexuality is a sin..." jumped out at me from the middle of the page. I carefully put the letter and enclosed Church pamphlet back into the envelope and decided that enough was enough. This is the fourth letter of that nature that has been delivered to me anonymously here in Sewanee over the past 3 years. I spoke to a friend and she advised me to phone the police. I did so. Thirty minutes later I went to work. I sat down and decided that I would read the letter from beginning to end, just so I knew entirely what I was dealing with. I began reading.
Sam,
I read your editorial in 'The Purple' and it made me think. Although I'm a Christian, I've often said things that Christ would not have endorsed. many Christians and so called Christians often spend more time talking about what they don't believe in rather than what they do believe in, and more importantly who they believe in. I believe homosexuality is a sin but so is hate, lust, greed, and adultery. Your sin is no greater than mine. The Bible states that all have sinned. I Thess 4:3 states we should keep clean from all sexual sin. That includes heterosexual immorality as well, to include lust, which I am guilty of. So for my part, I am sorry for having judged you and people like you. It is not my job.
It may seem strange that I've inclosed a prison ministry newsletter but without Christ we are all slaves to sin and imprisoned by it. may God bless you and keep you.
-In need of a savior like everyone else
Please note the typos were kept in tact.
So, as I was reading the letter, I realized how much of an asshole I am. I jumped to conclusions and judged the anonymous reader before I even heard his/her entire argument. To the reader, thank you for your perspective and the great amount of introspection involved in your response to my thoughts. I truly appreciate it and I'm sorry for having judged you.
Now, I just need to figure out what I'm going to tell the police. :(
So, I'm sure you all read a previous post entitled, "words from a queer feminist," in which I semi-rant about difference in both a negative and positive light. Well, that 'article' was submitted to the school newspaper and after a little editing back and forth between myself and the editor, it was published. I have since received some twenty or so responses to that article from individuals around campus. I, being the pessimist that I am, have been awaiting and expecting the hate mail to arrive. Today, I received it. I opened the envelope and immediately knew what it was when the phrase, "I believe homosexuality is a sin..." jumped out at me from the middle of the page. I carefully put the letter and enclosed Church pamphlet back into the envelope and decided that enough was enough. This is the fourth letter of that nature that has been delivered to me anonymously here in Sewanee over the past 3 years. I spoke to a friend and she advised me to phone the police. I did so. Thirty minutes later I went to work. I sat down and decided that I would read the letter from beginning to end, just so I knew entirely what I was dealing with. I began reading.
Sam,
I read your editorial in 'The Purple' and it made me think. Although I'm a Christian, I've often said things that Christ would not have endorsed. many Christians and so called Christians often spend more time talking about what they don't believe in rather than what they do believe in, and more importantly who they believe in. I believe homosexuality is a sin but so is hate, lust, greed, and adultery. Your sin is no greater than mine. The Bible states that all have sinned. I Thess 4:3 states we should keep clean from all sexual sin. That includes heterosexual immorality as well, to include lust, which I am guilty of. So for my part, I am sorry for having judged you and people like you. It is not my job.
It may seem strange that I've inclosed a prison ministry newsletter but without Christ we are all slaves to sin and imprisoned by it. may God bless you and keep you.
-In need of a savior like everyone else
Please note the typos were kept in tact.
So, as I was reading the letter, I realized how much of an asshole I am. I jumped to conclusions and judged the anonymous reader before I even heard his/her entire argument. To the reader, thank you for your perspective and the great amount of introspection involved in your response to my thoughts. I truly appreciate it and I'm sorry for having judged you.
Now, I just need to figure out what I'm going to tell the police. :(
Saturday, December 8, 2007
this morn
some mornings
you wake
next to a lover
or a friend
a captor
or a wind
this morn
I woke
next to a soggy
low-lying and lovely
cloud that mixes
with the trees
just outside
my window.
It looks like what Halloween's
supposed to look like
when you wake up on the morning
of that all hallows eve.
Or it appears to as you dreamed
it would the first morning
you awake at the Castle called
Hogwarts.
It is so beautiful;
I yearn to do something so that
I may
recall the occasion
I haven't a camera
I can't draw, but I could try.
I want to go play in it,
to feel that moisture on my skin
oh it's been so long.
Fog won't you come back to me
just a little more often?
you wake
next to a lover
or a friend
a captor
or a wind
this morn
I woke
next to a soggy
low-lying and lovely
cloud that mixes
with the trees
just outside
my window.
It looks like what Halloween's
supposed to look like
when you wake up on the morning
of that all hallows eve.
Or it appears to as you dreamed
it would the first morning
you awake at the Castle called
Hogwarts.
It is so beautiful;
I yearn to do something so that
I may
recall the occasion
I haven't a camera
I can't draw, but I could try.
I want to go play in it,
to feel that moisture on my skin
oh it's been so long.
Fog won't you come back to me
just a little more often?
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Letters to Sala
Side note: some of you have been bitching about not being able to post comments. I worked the problem and have fixed it. Comment away!
Last night, I went to the Tennessee Williams Theatre (across the soccer field) to see the play Letters to Sala. It was a formal dress rehearsal where outsiders were allowed to come in and watch the production. The play is about this woman named Sala would survived the Holocaust. Her daughter, Ann, recently published a book called Sala's Gift: My Mother's Holocaust Story. (http://www.salasgift.com/content/index.asp) The script was written by playwright, Beth Lincks. It was pretty much amazing.
Though the story is a sad one, it is a beautiful display of cultural ideology. Favorite line:
"There was a period of time that I didn't want to be Jewish anymore."
Pretty much. I blubbered like a baby from the balcony seats next to some woman who must have thought I was some unstable homeless adolescent with the way my emotions were pouring down my cheeks. There's this one scene where a woman is dragged to the gas chambers and is screaming bloody murder for her life.
There was this other scene where Sala curls up on the ground in the middle of the labor camp and sobs. Her lover has just been sent to a different camp and she is completley alone. I cannot imagine what it would be like to have had everything you owned and everyone you knew (family, friends and your lover) taken away from you. To have every promise ever made to you broken and to have no way access to comfort.
The play is a simple one. Most of the dialogue is from the letters that Sala received and wrote during her 5 1/2 year labor camp stay. I recommend everyone in Sewanee go see the play. I'm also planning to order the book. Also, Sala, the real one-in person, will be here tomorrow!
Also, I really want to plan a trip to Whitwell, TN (between Sewanee and Chattanooga on I-24) to visit the school featured in the documentary Paperclips. (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0380615/) If you're intersted in going. Let me know!
Good night to you all.
Last night, I went to the Tennessee Williams Theatre (across the soccer field) to see the play Letters to Sala. It was a formal dress rehearsal where outsiders were allowed to come in and watch the production. The play is about this woman named Sala would survived the Holocaust. Her daughter, Ann, recently published a book called Sala's Gift: My Mother's Holocaust Story. (http://www.salasgift.com/content/index.asp) The script was written by playwright, Beth Lincks. It was pretty much amazing.
Though the story is a sad one, it is a beautiful display of cultural ideology. Favorite line:
"There was a period of time that I didn't want to be Jewish anymore."
Pretty much. I blubbered like a baby from the balcony seats next to some woman who must have thought I was some unstable homeless adolescent with the way my emotions were pouring down my cheeks. There's this one scene where a woman is dragged to the gas chambers and is screaming bloody murder for her life.
There was this other scene where Sala curls up on the ground in the middle of the labor camp and sobs. Her lover has just been sent to a different camp and she is completley alone. I cannot imagine what it would be like to have had everything you owned and everyone you knew (family, friends and your lover) taken away from you. To have every promise ever made to you broken and to have no way access to comfort.
The play is a simple one. Most of the dialogue is from the letters that Sala received and wrote during her 5 1/2 year labor camp stay. I recommend everyone in Sewanee go see the play. I'm also planning to order the book. Also, Sala, the real one-in person, will be here tomorrow!
Also, I really want to plan a trip to Whitwell, TN (between Sewanee and Chattanooga on I-24) to visit the school featured in the documentary Paperclips. (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0380615/) If you're intersted in going. Let me know!
Good night to you all.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
I'm stuck.
So, I've been listening to St. Cecelia's Symphony Orchestra a lot lately, the Bach CD. It's incredibly comforting to be walking through central campus and have various random assortments of notes stream through my consciousness. In one way it comforts me in this time of trial and tribulation that is the end of a college semester, and in another it induces desire for a re-connection with a lot of different types of experiences and people.
Nostalgic thoughts:
1. The Chamber Orchestra in which I used to play.
2. That moment you feel the entire orchestra is in sync and everything being produced from the instruments can only be described as beautiful.
3. The first time you heard something so lovely, saw something so breath-taking and the way it made you feel.
4. Freedom of emotion.
5. My friend Heidi Baldwin and the way she played the cello: AMAZING!
6. Tragedies: films, plays and the like.
I could go on and on.
Nostalgic thoughts:
1. The Chamber Orchestra in which I used to play.
2. That moment you feel the entire orchestra is in sync and everything being produced from the instruments can only be described as beautiful.
3. The first time you heard something so lovely, saw something so breath-taking and the way it made you feel.
4. Freedom of emotion.
5. My friend Heidi Baldwin and the way she played the cello: AMAZING!
6. Tragedies: films, plays and the like.
I could go on and on.
Laundry night
If the vending machines in my dorm sold cheesy grits, I would be the happiest lady alive. Unfortunately, they don't so on my way to the creepy basement in my dorm to do laundry I was forced to select the next best thing. And that is Ruffles Cheddar and Sour Cream. P.S. I like cheese.
It is Tuesday night, that means it's laundry night. Why? because there's no one else doing laundry on Tuesday nights at 2:15 in the morning. Also, because all my clothes smell like frat from the weekend.
Tonight I wrote an internship proposal on impoverished communities. Then I watched two hours of Law and Order. After that I went to the 420 suite (shout outz) where I played silent rounds of Scrabulous on facebook and bitched about my life briefly. (Thanks Ashley).
Updates/Thoughts while I wait on my laundry:
What's currently written on my hand? a babysitting gig, a reminder about a receipt, another reminder about money that I owe someone (surprise...I know), a reminder about community service hours, and a coffee date with a professor. All that on one hand, and a lot of this stuff has been written on there since this morning. I know...I'm impressed too. (Yes, I have been washing my hands after I use the restroom...sick people).
What I miss about being in a relationship: someone to give you back scratches and put lotion on the parts you can't reach.
Number of dollars in my bank account: 6
Number of cigarettes in my last pack: 10
Number of papers left in the semester: 1
Number of exams left in the semester: 3
Number of comps left to write: 6
Number of comps left to edit: 2
Days 'til I go home: 15, how the hell I'm gonna get there is beyond me. I bought two gallons of gas yesterday and I have the aforementioned 6 dollars which will only buy two more. That's like 100 miles worth of driving if I park my car now and don't drive it again 'til I leave for Atlanta. P.S. Home is 150 miles away and I don't own anything short enough to give me any sort of hitch-hiking advantage. Maybe I should buy that book, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, only something tells me that that piece of literature has nothing to do with actual hitch-hiking. C'est la vie.
It is Tuesday night, that means it's laundry night. Why? because there's no one else doing laundry on Tuesday nights at 2:15 in the morning. Also, because all my clothes smell like frat from the weekend.
Tonight I wrote an internship proposal on impoverished communities. Then I watched two hours of Law and Order. After that I went to the 420 suite (shout outz) where I played silent rounds of Scrabulous on facebook and bitched about my life briefly. (Thanks Ashley).
Updates/Thoughts while I wait on my laundry:
What's currently written on my hand? a babysitting gig, a reminder about a receipt, another reminder about money that I owe someone (surprise...I know), a reminder about community service hours, and a coffee date with a professor. All that on one hand, and a lot of this stuff has been written on there since this morning. I know...I'm impressed too. (Yes, I have been washing my hands after I use the restroom...sick people).
What I miss about being in a relationship: someone to give you back scratches and put lotion on the parts you can't reach.
Number of dollars in my bank account: 6
Number of cigarettes in my last pack: 10
Number of papers left in the semester: 1
Number of exams left in the semester: 3
Number of comps left to write: 6
Number of comps left to edit: 2
Days 'til I go home: 15, how the hell I'm gonna get there is beyond me. I bought two gallons of gas yesterday and I have the aforementioned 6 dollars which will only buy two more. That's like 100 miles worth of driving if I park my car now and don't drive it again 'til I leave for Atlanta. P.S. Home is 150 miles away and I don't own anything short enough to give me any sort of hitch-hiking advantage. Maybe I should buy that book, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, only something tells me that that piece of literature has nothing to do with actual hitch-hiking. C'est la vie.
Monday, December 3, 2007
words from a queer feminist
So, I published this article to the school newspaper and am anxiously awaiting the hate mail. :)
As a neutrally-gendered, queer and feminist female student, my experience here in Sewanee has been an interesting one. We all know Sewanee to be an extremely unique place full of a homogenous group of people. I spent the majority of my time here trying to not fit into those categories of same-ness; the white, male, and heterosexually privileged. I pushed the boundaries of gender when I shaved my head freshman year. I pursued knowledge of feminist and queer theory when I organized and implemented two conferences last semester on various political and social topics. I was alienated and alienated myself when I dated an amazing woman outside of Sewanee, for two and a half years. It is now, on the eve of my last semester here in Sewanee, that I have begun to ponder who it is that I am in relation to this place. In light of my differences, would I have had the opportunities and experiences that I have had if I weren’t a Sewanee student and therefore, given access to Sewanee homogeneity and its privileges?
In Sewanee, everyone is constantly engaged in the pursuit of knowledge. I cannot tell you how many times I have discussed the effects of conservative religious influence on human rights in America at a party. But, here in Sewanee, we know that knowledge comes in all shapes and sizes. Sometimes truth is in plain sight and other times it remains well hidden. For a while, I was bitter because all I saw were textbook definitions of human inequality. I became angry with Sewanee. I desired exposure to real culture and to real members of what I perceived to be my type of people. I perceived these people and communities to reside outside of the Sewanee bubble. What I did not realize was that I was wasting my years of academic privilege by becoming angry when I interacted with people who were homophobic or anti-feminist. What I have realized more recently is that I have been living in a community that I wish every social activist could experience. If every pro-choice activist had to sit and argue points with a privileged, religiously conservative, political science major from the Sewanee student population, they’d be better off for it. It is through difference and interaction with those differences that one grows. I know I probably did not evoke change in many people here in Sewanee, but at least I have received the opportunity to test my beliefs and attempted to pursue truth within myself. I suppose that is the goal of a student community; to test out and strengthen our own beliefs as well as those around us.
To my friends, both professors and students, who have listened to me rant and rave, cry and scream about discrimination and violation of human rights: thank you for your compassion. To those individuals who have called me a dyke or a faggot or a Femi-Nazi: thank you for your difference. To all those out there who are social activists: keep on fighting the good fight.
As a neutrally-gendered, queer and feminist female student, my experience here in Sewanee has been an interesting one. We all know Sewanee to be an extremely unique place full of a homogenous group of people. I spent the majority of my time here trying to not fit into those categories of same-ness; the white, male, and heterosexually privileged. I pushed the boundaries of gender when I shaved my head freshman year. I pursued knowledge of feminist and queer theory when I organized and implemented two conferences last semester on various political and social topics. I was alienated and alienated myself when I dated an amazing woman outside of Sewanee, for two and a half years. It is now, on the eve of my last semester here in Sewanee, that I have begun to ponder who it is that I am in relation to this place. In light of my differences, would I have had the opportunities and experiences that I have had if I weren’t a Sewanee student and therefore, given access to Sewanee homogeneity and its privileges?
In Sewanee, everyone is constantly engaged in the pursuit of knowledge. I cannot tell you how many times I have discussed the effects of conservative religious influence on human rights in America at a party. But, here in Sewanee, we know that knowledge comes in all shapes and sizes. Sometimes truth is in plain sight and other times it remains well hidden. For a while, I was bitter because all I saw were textbook definitions of human inequality. I became angry with Sewanee. I desired exposure to real culture and to real members of what I perceived to be my type of people. I perceived these people and communities to reside outside of the Sewanee bubble. What I did not realize was that I was wasting my years of academic privilege by becoming angry when I interacted with people who were homophobic or anti-feminist. What I have realized more recently is that I have been living in a community that I wish every social activist could experience. If every pro-choice activist had to sit and argue points with a privileged, religiously conservative, political science major from the Sewanee student population, they’d be better off for it. It is through difference and interaction with those differences that one grows. I know I probably did not evoke change in many people here in Sewanee, but at least I have received the opportunity to test my beliefs and attempted to pursue truth within myself. I suppose that is the goal of a student community; to test out and strengthen our own beliefs as well as those around us.
To my friends, both professors and students, who have listened to me rant and rave, cry and scream about discrimination and violation of human rights: thank you for your compassion. To those individuals who have called me a dyke or a faggot or a Femi-Nazi: thank you for your difference. To all those out there who are social activists: keep on fighting the good fight.
This Town of Mine
I have never lived in a town to which I felt personally connected. I grew up in a small town in South Carolina. Seneca was just large enough that I did not know everyone and just small enough that I was constantly bored. Then we moved to a new town in Georgia. Cumming is cramped, congested and kind of a 'wannabe' trendy area. It irritates me and again, I know next to no one.
This weekend I came to realize that this town where I go to school, though it is a college town, is a town that I have come to love and to feel connected. Community is a big deal here. Everyone knows everyone else. Professors invite you over dinner and you run into your advisor's five year old child as you leave your 8 AM class every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. That child knows your name. I realize I'm starting to sound like the theme song to Cheers but seriously, it is a beautiful realization.
Saturday I submitted an article to the school newspaper. It was all about community and the discontents of communities. It was lovely to write and ponder the innerworkings of a community of people of varoius ages and social understandings. When Sunday came along, though I had a lot of work to do, I could not find it in myself to feel anxious or upset about anything.
Sunday night, five minutes after posting a birthday wish to a friend of mine, I ran into him at the library where I was able to actually give him a birthday hug and wishes (only in Sewanee).
This morning, I went to my favorite coffee shop, where all my friends work. My friend, Tim, let me smell the coffee beans so I could pick out which kind of coffee I wanted (I know that wouldn't happen at a Starbucks in downtown Atlanta). Everyone knows everyone, everyone helps everyone, and everyone enables everyone else's learning experiences. I'm glad to call Sewanee my home. It saddens me that I will have to leave this place in less than six months. But for now, I will enjoy it. Thanks Sewanee, you're the best. :)
This weekend I came to realize that this town where I go to school, though it is a college town, is a town that I have come to love and to feel connected. Community is a big deal here. Everyone knows everyone else. Professors invite you over dinner and you run into your advisor's five year old child as you leave your 8 AM class every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. That child knows your name. I realize I'm starting to sound like the theme song to Cheers but seriously, it is a beautiful realization.
Saturday I submitted an article to the school newspaper. It was all about community and the discontents of communities. It was lovely to write and ponder the innerworkings of a community of people of varoius ages and social understandings. When Sunday came along, though I had a lot of work to do, I could not find it in myself to feel anxious or upset about anything.
Sunday night, five minutes after posting a birthday wish to a friend of mine, I ran into him at the library where I was able to actually give him a birthday hug and wishes (only in Sewanee).
This morning, I went to my favorite coffee shop, where all my friends work. My friend, Tim, let me smell the coffee beans so I could pick out which kind of coffee I wanted (I know that wouldn't happen at a Starbucks in downtown Atlanta). Everyone knows everyone, everyone helps everyone, and everyone enables everyone else's learning experiences. I'm glad to call Sewanee my home. It saddens me that I will have to leave this place in less than six months. But for now, I will enjoy it. Thanks Sewanee, you're the best. :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
