Holiday Drama

I wasn't in the Christmas mood this year. Sure, I am always annoyed by the money I am expected to spend, the knowledge that I don't need anything yet have to come up with something to tell people to buy me... but this year it didn't feel like the holidays at all. I don't know if that means anything about growing up or moving on or changing. But I just didn't get it this year.
So Christmas night I got into a fight with my mother about some stupid stuff that I don't have time for. It's not a secret that I think her husband is an ignorant, pompous ass (and that is edited for your reading pleasure) but somehow they both assumed they would invite HIS family to MY wedding.
Yep.
Tell me if I'm nuts. But I didn't grow up with him or his family. By the time my mom remarried, I had been on my own for at least 6 months. I have met his kids once or twice each. We don't know one another. We aren't "family." My mom knows we are planning a small wedding. David and I are paying for it. I am not paying for the children of a man I don't like to eat. If I passed any of them on the street I wouldn't know them. If I have to meet people at my wedding, they probably shouldn't be there. We are inviting 100, expecting about 75. They don't make the cut.
Do you understand that? Or are David and I hateful and crazy?
So somehow, instead of just deferring to the people who are hosting the wedding, who are paying the wedding, who are planning the wedding, who are GETTING MARRIED, a confrontation had to result. Long story short, I am tired of dealing with the drama. So I left town with David that night and went home. He had to go home that night anyway because of his work schedule, and I decided to go along. Most of my friends I planned to see understood. When I'm upset I want to be with David and I want to be home. That's where I went.
And today my friend that I moved up here with moved back to Indy. I am so excited for her. She is starting her career, buying a home... but I can't help but feel that a chapter is gone, an era has ended. She started this adventure with me. Today she came by my place to drop off some stuff I had left at our old apartment. One of these things was our grocery cart. I remembered the first time we went grocery shopping together... we were so used to shopping in Indy where you buy everything and load up for trunk and back seats. Well, we forgot that we had no car and had to carry all of our stuff about ten blocks home. So we bought this old lady push cart that a lot of people use up here to haul stuff around. It was red and we named it Ruby. I have so many memories of us dragging that thing down State Street and then down Cullom Ave. In our busy lives sometimes the only times we had good conversation was while pushing that cart around. We struggled to lift up the steps of our first apartment building, struggled to keep the cat inside as we rolled into our second apartment, and today, it is sitting in my storage unit in the basement.
I know it's silly. But today the cart, and the fact that she didn't need it anymore, was sad. A definite shift has occurred, life has changed, and now Ruby is but shoved into our hall closet or teetering down Chicago streets, us laughing or discussing or complaining or comforting around it. And I guess I just realize that life is changing. I am here with David in our very own home and she is moving with her love to Indy to their very own home. My other friends are growing up too. And it's eery.

Pigeon Man

There are eccentric characters in every neighborhood of Chicago. Lincoln Square, the neighborhood I called home for over a year, had Joe, the Pigeon Man. He sat on the fire hydrant at the corner of Lawrence and Western and pigeons would flock to him. They sat on him, he fed them, he talked to them. There is a burned-out abandoned building there, next to the Walgreens, and when he wasn't around, the pigeons would line up in the windows and on the roof. When he came, they would swoop down to him.
I never saw him sitting there; maybe I'm always in too much of a hurry. I didn't use that intersection a whole lot, as I work south of the Square and he would sit on the north end. I have seen him the past two weekends though, waiting with me for the #49 Western bus. I have noticed him at the bus stop in the past; I noticed him because he was bent forward, had a walking stick, and wore all blue, like a janitor. He wore his watch stretched over his shirt sleeve.
Last Sunday, I was waiting for the bus after work. He was waiting there with me. Another man came up, and started talking to Joe. He seemed distant, like he didn't want to talk. But the man was asking him if he'd read the paper, and what he was going to do about the article. I was intrigued, but got no more information, even during the bus ride. Joe got off at Lawrence and Western, where I assume now he went to sit on that hydrant, as usual, and feed the pigeons. On the bus though, the man who had asked Joe about the article chastised him for not wearing a coat or hat. He said, "Joe's a wonderful person and I don't want him to get pneumonia or somethin'." I'm a whore for people watching, and the whole exchange was very interesting to watch.
So today, I do my usual read of the Chicago Tribune online and as I'm scanning the local headlines, I see "Lincoln Square Pigeon Man Hit by Van." I began reading it, because I lived in Lincoln Square for a while, still work there, and had no idea we had a Pigeon Man. When I saw the man's photo and read about him, I realized the man I had seen on the bus was this Pigeon Man and that he had been killed Tuesday when he was struck by a van.
I just remembered the other man on the bus worrying about Joe not having a hat or coat. Two days later, he gets hit by a van. It was just..strange. It reminded me that you never know, do you? I see this man on Sunday... I don't know anything about him. Then I read today that he is dead, and that he was this local legend. The article the other man was informing him about was discussing some local politicians trying to pass an ordinance that would fine people $1,000 for feeding pigeons. This mysterious bus ride I had Sunday...article, what are you going to do about, man dressed in blue janitor garb, the other man called him Joe, he had a bag of bread with him... it all comes together in this article about his death.
It makes me sad, I guess, because this man had this love for these creatures that the city is trying so hard to exterminate. It makes me sad that he died. It makes me sad that I just saw him, two days before his death, and I didn't know, he didn't know, none of us knew he was going to get hit by a van 48 hours later and die. That's the mystery, the eeriness, the unsettling thing about life. We don't know.
Tonight, there are candles at this fire hydrant. There are lonely birds on the Square. There is a girl at home, up too late, wondering about life and death and, to quote on of her favorite monologues, "...how amazing it all is." The characters of this city, like the Rastafarian who sits under the Berwyn red line station and sells incense. Like the Finger Lady on the Blue Line. Every neighborhood has one. I wonder who will take the place in Lincoln Square.

"I don't want a facebook wedding!"

When David and I decided to get married next summer, which I guess means that we are now engaged, David said, "I don't want a facebook wedding." He is hilarious and wise at the same time, which is one of many reasons I am marrying him.
He went on to say that it doesn't really matter to anyone else when and where we are getting married...if it does matter to anyone else, they will get an invitation in the mail with all the information they need. He told me how it annoyed him, the posting of pictures of the ring, as if that's what getting married is all about.
That's true. It's so true. This is why I love him.

With so much going on in the world, so many causes that need passionate people...
Last night I saw Nightline, and there is a group of Evangelicals that go to a Mormon convention every year to try and convert the Mormons to "true" Christianity. There was a man yelling at a teenage kid, "Your Jesus is not the real Jesus. He is the brother of the Devil!"
...?
Another woman said she felt sorry for the Mormons because they had been deceived.
I wonder if these evangelicals know that people think THEY have been deceived. Just a thought.
There are so many problems... problems people are dealing with here and now. People are hurting right now. I guess I don't understand putting all of our efforts toward people who aren't sick, poor, or enslaved just because you don't agree with their religious views. Are you kidding?
I suppose they are trying to save these people from some sort of awful afterlife... there are people, though, suffering a horrible LIFE, current life, and I think our efforts would be best used in that direction. We know this life exists... we are here, now, living it. Some people are not living it well. Let's help them before we worry about a supernatural life a good part of the population doesn't even believe exists, while everyone else is stil debating what it looks like or how you get there. There is no debate that people are suffering right now. Let's start here, shall we?

I have to say that this post is inspired by two other bloggers: Dana for the subject and by her poetic telling of it, and Mindy for her honesty.
I don't know how often in my life I've been truly honest. I mean truly honest...with my myself and others. It seems as if I was always getting myself into situations that I had to hide from, or felt I had to, or situations that I assumed other people in my life wouldn't approve of. As I ran around in early high school not caring what people thought of purple fishnets, I guess, looking back, I cared deeply what they thought about ME. I had all of these ideas... I had these dreams. Some of them ended up materializing in the future and some did not. For example, I knew for so many years that my best friend Martin and I were going to move to New York and he was going to dance and I was goin to act. Or stage manage. Or write. Or everything. Life is wide, wide open when you are young. I miss that. I miss the possibility of the impossible. I was going to leave Indiana, and never ever look back. I didn't need anyone there and they didn't need me. Maybe this seems sad. But in a way it was refreshing. I could go anywhere. What did happen was that I did move to a big city, although it wasn't New York. I moved with another good friend who I knew through theatre, but neither of us aspired to be actors or dancers or anything theatrical up here. In fact, I didn't really know what I aspired to be. And while I did leave Indiana and at this point don't know that I'll live there again, I still have ties there. They are stronger, even, then when I lived there. David's family keeps a part of me there. I love them. I, as Hallmark-y as this sounds, have his two sisters who are now my sisters, my two brother-in-laws, and his parents. They are a reason to be there. I didn't know that was going to happen. I didn't know that I would have a life partner and that we would share a mortgage. I didn't know. I wasn't expecting to have such a strained relationship with my mother, or with Martin. I guess I was disappointed by them. I didn't expect to be giving my life over to the career and field I am going into. When I peered into my future in middle and high scool, I didn't see myself weeping alone in my office after giving my first positive result as an HIV test counselor. I didn't see myself staying in Chicago for my family here, Jay and Dwayne. I didn't think I'd be pursuing such an archaic major, Social Justice, for Christ's sake, and I surely never thought I'd do something as normal as living with a man and having a mortgage and entertaining the idea of getting married.
When I told an ex-boyfriend that I wasn't going to major in theatre, he said I was "selling out." As if everyone who does not have a creative career is somehow a part of the system, The Man, and therefore not valid. Tell me how I can sell out by entering a career where I will work for the rights of others and make hardly any money. I knew that when he said it years ago... but at that point in my life, I let him say it. I let males tell me a lot of things then. I let men do a lot of things then. I went along, an unwilling but non-protesting victim. Some of you know about this awful time in my life, and some of you only knew the happy, passionate facade I used, as I hid by keeping myself busy doing theatre. I hid in my characteer's lives, painstakingly creating their lives so I did not have to face my own. I just wonder what if I had been consious all those years, what choices I would have made.
And here I am, now, a self-proclaimed feminist, I've worked with rape victims being tested for HIV, and there is a part of me that wants to cry with them, maybe harder than them, because unlike them, I am not still in shock. I want to tell them that it's alright and one day they may eve see it as an asset. Hell, I want to shout to them, it may make you change the world. But I don't. Because I know I wouldn't have understood it then and my last thoughts were about my future, because I didn't see my future. I was too busy hiding from the present.
What is the point of this post? I don't know. I've just been thinking about my life a lot lately, and how so many people don't really know me. Even those who think they do, who I consider my very best friends. And it gets heavy, this knowledge, this past, and I thought I'd let some of it, this fraction of it, go. Even if no one reads it, it is here and not here, with me. That was the point, I suppose.

I am wearing a tshirt from high school. I didn't do a whole lot of activities in high school that came with a tshirt, but I have a couple. I'm wearing it and realizing that, really, it wasn't that long ago since I was in high school. But so much has happened and I am so changed that I can't imagine still being in that place in life. It was so great and awful, wasn't it? Both, together, back and forth, or at the exact same moment.
Sometimes I'd look back on "the good old days" and miss it. But increasingly I love my current place in life more and more. Look who I am, look what I've done! I want to say to the people in my life who I thought mattered and really didn't.
I want to go back to some moments though, most of them completely divorced from high school, but the occurred in that age range. Theatre, mostly. Now it's been... four years since I've performed and three since I did work on a show at all. In February I will be in the Vagina Monologues. I can't wait to be onstage again.
There is a part of me I left there, in those dark backstage areas that smelled of lumber, under the spotlights and the gobos... and it will always be there for me when I need to remember who I am, if I forget just a little bit. I smell fresh lumber and I remember.

My mother always said that people die in threes. I think it's funny because, of course, people die every day. People die by the thousands, really. But it seemed that each time she knew someone who died, she knew of two more. Today, Evil Kinevil died, and yesterday Hyde, and I feel like some other well-known person in the last week or so. It made me think of this theory. It made me realize that you can prove anything really. Not too mention the other thousand people who died this week, we can pick these three, the first three we all think of, and prove this theory. What else do we prove by picking and choosing? Most things, I think. Especially when it comes to the bible and what those believers of the bible choose to adhere to. Leviticus? Come on! That's perfect! Often cited when engaging in the "Jesus loves you, Mike, and your friend, Todd, but not that you two have sex!" debate. It's there in Leviticus... but take a look at the rest of CRAZY MESS OF LEVITICUS! No pork, no shell fish, women can't wear red, can't cross a body of water while on her period.... yikes. I love me some bacon. I ate crab last week. My favorite prom dress was red and I live five blocks from Lake Michigan, and cross the Chicago River each day to get downtown. And, I am not heterosexist. There's my hand basket. I'm going to hell.
I've been told that these other rules in Leviticus are "outdated" or perhaps "allegorical." Bull shit. You can't pick and choose. How is one more literal than the other? It isn't specified.
But the master class loves pork and shell fish, benefit from water-side real estate, and want the freedom to turn heads at their charity balls in red evening gowns. Accepting homosexuals doesn't serve their purpose, and this is why they have chosen to follow this rule. In fact, to accept homosexuality as normal (read a science book. It'll teach you about evolution too!) would threaten their hold on hegemony. Straight men, regardless of race and class, have at least the advantage of being men, and being able to marry who they love, bestow financial and health benefits on their partners, and hold hands with their partners without being harrassed. It's heterosexual privilege. Shell fish don't threaten anyone's privileged status.
I say if you site this book, the bible, when defending the nation's denial of marriage equality, you first need to be reminded of the separation of church and state. But, if you insist on using this passage of this book that, gasp, not everyone believes in!, you should have to follow it all, baby! The whole shabang! Hey, I'm just trying to keep you accountable! I'm trying to help! If nothing else, this wll prove your point even further, that you are that serious about your anti-GLBT conviction. People will think, "WOW! They must be on to something! Look! Uncle Eddy used to love shrimp! He hasn't touched the cocktail all night!" You'll be such a martyr! Sweet!
And I know it will suck. You look so cute in that red dress! And crab legs? Wow. Yum. But, you know, while you're suffering those cravings and lamenting the money you spent on that red dress you'll never wear, just imagine how much harder it is to be unaccepted, chastised, and even killed for merely being who you are. Shrimp, ball gowns, people attracted to their own sex... it's all there together.
Hate is not a family value, nor is it very "Christian," if that is something you aspire to be. Maybe you don't think what you are doing is hating... but what if your group was singled out and denied basic rights and privileges? Wouldn't you feel hate from your oppressing groups? I doubt anyone nowadays looks back on the defenders of slavery as generally amiable folks. They hated someone. Not accepting someone based on prejudice is hate. Just because you don't commit a hate crime does not mean you don't hate. Denying a child the right to be legally protected by both her parents if they happen to be of the same sex is hateful. Denying a couple who has loved and supported one another for years the right to hospital visitation is hateful. And the fact that people don't see this as hate, or that it's anything like racism, is damn scary. Scarier still,that churches and our GOVERNMENT are backing it up. (just like racism!) We are better than this. At least I am. The rest of you can pick and choose between your hate and shell fish. I'm going to love and fight and scream and cry. I'm going to change it.

Confession

Last night I....
I...
er...
bought something from WalMart. UGH. I hate WalMart. I have an unoffical ban on WalMart! I have always hated just being inside WalMart, but my sophomore year of college, I studied the company in a social justice class and learned of their sneaky and shaky ways. I vowed to never shop at WalMart. But, here I am, looking at my email confirmation that my new comforter and sheet set is on the way.
But really, where can you shop without abusing your morals? Even Amazon, which I think gets a fair amount of my income....eek... donates to the Republican party. But I can't quit Amazon. It's too incredible. And Target is now almost worse than WalMart as far as health insurance for their employees.
What is a socially consious person to do? The same thing happened when David and I were house hunting. I did not want to be an in-mover, a gentrifier. But, we bought in a rehab building in Edgewater because it's what we could afford. It seems like I have to find small independent expensive boutiques for all my wares and rent the rest of my life in order to have any integrity.

Yesterday was awkward. I think there's a reason they say people kill themselves more frequently during the holidays than any other time of year. Not that I'm suicidal, mind you, I just... have a family.
I drove in with Molly from Chicago, which was nice because we never have time to just sit and talk for that long. When she took me to my mom's house, we left right away to eat with my mom's first cousin and her family. Long story short, it came to light that my mom has not told any of them that I bought my first home, because then she would have to tell them that David and I are living together. It made me wonder what everyone would say if they knew David and I entertain the idea of never getting married. If they knew we weren't going to have children. If they knew I was pro-choice and worked for Planned Parenthood, at a sex toy store where I teach people how to enjoy their sex lives more, that I used to be an HIV test counselor and taught people how to have sex more safely, and that I am going to graduate college and continue work in these areas as an activist. What if they new that if I do decide to play the game and get married, walking me down the aisle will be two men who have been together for 21 years and who lovingly refer to themselves as my Two Gay Dads? I had this feeling suddenly there that none of this was okay with anyone I'm related to.
Then I went to David's parent's house and laughed at dinner and discussed the problems of the world with people who understood me, or who could atleast respect where I was coming from. I was told by two different members of this family, my family now, that whatever David and I decide to do, they love me already like a third daughter. They kept asking what we needed for the new place and could they buy it for us for Christmas. It made me think of last Christmas, when David and I had our first apartment, and they bought us a dining room table.
And then I drove back to my mom's, late, after having coffee with my sister-in-law for hours, and felt like a stranger in this house. I didn't grow up here, I don't have memories here.
I'm realizing that no longer do I have two lives, Indy and Chicago, but one life, that doesn't fit when I visit my old one.

This is why boys need to be raised to understand that women are humans, and not just recepticals for semen, AND why we all need to be raised to understand that sex is not a bad thing. http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20071119/ap_on_re_us/boys_rape;_ylt=Av_bbQnNtZL1PHzMBlFHr.NH2ocAI don't know if the girl in this story is a victim or telling a lie to save herself. But, really, either way, she is a victim. If she was raped, she is a victim. If she took part in completely consensual sex, she is a victim. Why? Because she feels she has to lie about it, because she believes her decision to have sex will get her into trouble. Granted, these kids are entirely too young to be having sex. (Yes, even a crazy liberal like me draws the line somewhere.) But this has happened before... women, especially teenage and college age women, feel that after they decided to have sex, they are dirty, they did something wrong. So they lie, because suddenly it's okay. Being raped is not a woman's fault. Choosing to take part in a consensual sexual activity can label someone a slut, a whore, and ruin a young woman's life.Something is seriously amiss in our culture if rape is a better avenue to travel.If she was raped, something is seriously wrong. Rape is wrong. There is something wrong when the University of Vermont does a study and finds at least a fourth of men in the school have committed rape, but didn't know it. We are all taught that rape is a stranger lurking in the alleys. Anything else is debatable, loses power, and ultimately makes men feel that they have freedom to do what they wish with our bodies, and makes women feel that certain types of violations are okay and normal.

David and I went to Ikea today to buy things for the new place... curtains, a chair, hardware for the cabinets, some more glasses, wine glasses.. random things. I got hom and talked to one of my best friends who told me she and her boyfriend are going to put an offer on a house in Indiana.
I'm so excited for her, yet sad for her move from Chicago.
Life is funny life that. I realize increasingly that at the very same moment, it can be wonderful and awful.

Walking out of work today, it was cold and rainy and grey. I thought, I might as well be in London. The Scottish Highlands, maybe.
I love Chicago. But sometimes I think of the other places I've been, even other places I've lived, and I miss them so. I miss stars and sunsets and skies that don't get caught on the spires of tall buildings. The fall colors are nice up here and last week, driving home on Lake Shore Drive, I could see Lincoln Park and it was all golden and red and brown, anchored to the earth by green. The sun was setting. The tall vintage apartment buildings were shining. Runners dotted the beach. In that moment I knew I'd never move. I'd never leave this place.
But then today I was not on Lake Shore Drive, I was wading through dirty puddles, waiting for a bus that is always late, and all I could think about was the summer David and I fell in love, traveling around Scotland, Ireland, England, and Wales. I thought about driving to southern Indiana with Natalie. I thought about visitng the old tenement building where my father grew up in Bayonne, New Jersey. It smelled so damp on days like today. And then I thought about my father being from Ireland himself and how some things just come to a complete circle.
Then my bus came and I journeyed back to my corner of this city, on this rainy grey day, and contemplated life and love and rain.
Wherever I am, I will be okay. It rains most places on earth.

murder. marriage. sanctimonious bull shit.

I'm sorry. I'm about to make a snap judgement. But the case of Stacy Peterson, the missing woman in Bolingbrook, IL has become national news now. Matt Lauer interviewed her husband on the Today show yesterday and he was discussing their marital problems. He actually said that she wanted divorce when she was "I'm not trying to be funny, but on her menstrual cycle."wow.Drew Peterson is not only a leading suspect in this case, but a moron. I think he meant "while she was mentrating" because women are always on a cycle. It's how we have periods every 28-35 days. We're on a cycle.Terminology aside, he's still a moron. Sometimes women do become emotional during different times of their cycle do to hormone levels... but usually not to the point where every 28 days we are serious about ending our marriages. Perhaps these women have bouts of depression, maybe they are bipolar... whatever. I'm not a mental health professional. Hey! Drew Peterson! Matt Lauer is interviewing you because not only is your fourth wife missing, but your third wife died mysteriously, too! They found your first wife soaking wet, the determined cause of death was drowning, but the bath tub she was in was dry. Her body has been exumed for a second autopsy. The best you can say is that sometimes when she was on her period, she wanted a divorce?? I'm tired of women being victims. I'm tired of men being raised in a culture where violence in okay, and since we are second to them, we are therefore worthy of their aggressions. I am sick of hearing that some woman has been reduced to a sex toy and a punching bag. And not able to control her emotions, reqesting a divorce merely because she is shedding her uterine lining. Perhaps he was abusive. Perhaps he was a bad husband and father.Maybe he didn't do it. Fine. Somebody did. Either way, yet again, another woman is gone. Conservative politicians and religious crackpots are against same-sex marriage because they say they are "protecting the sanctity of marriage." May I point out that Drew Peterson has been married four times and though he is under investigation for the murder of two of his wives, could legally be married in a church today. Heterosexuals don't need any help ruining the sanctity of marriage. A suspected middle-aged murderer of two wives could go to Vegas today and get maried to an 18 year old high school senior by a bad Elvis inpersonator. Hallelujah! Oh Holy Night! What a sanctified event! Maybe we would benefit from so many people eager to commit to one another, fighting for the right to. You know, and gay men wouldn't ever get divorced because they don't have "cycles." ....moron!

Jerry Lewis' TeleHATE

It has taken me a while to write on this, because a) I have been writing for school (which I should be doing right now) and b) I had no idea how to tackle this topic because it seems so simple, yet people don't get it. How do you simplify a simple topic?
On this year's Telethon, Jerry Lewis called someone the F word... fag. I HATE this word. I have heard it used too many times in ignorance, hate, and fear. I hate this word. So, Lewis used it. On the live telethon. Did you know that?
A lot of people don't know because it was hardly covered in the media. I read about it in Chicago Free Press, the Chicago GLBT paper. Even then, it was just a blurb. I'm not mad at the GLBT community for not being more outraged; I think the community has learned to take the high road and not bitch about ignorant assholes like Lewis. What does upset me though is the coverage and conversation surrounding the Don Imus slur in contrast. He called the Rutgers women's basketball team "nappy headed hoes." Wow, Imus. Double whammy. Racism AND sexism! Sweet.
I'm not saying that didn't deserve the press. Of course it did. I'm saying, why hasn't Jerry Lewis been publicly ridiculed for an equally ridiculous comment? Racism sucks, it still exists, and we should still fight to end it. But shouldn't we do the same for heterosexism? It sucks, it definitely stille exists, and it's more acceptable, I think, than racism.
Issues of gender are ignored. Who were the people talking about Imus? Black leaders. May I point out that he didn't just use the word nappy, but hoes. Where was NOW? Where was Feminist Majority? Did they try to weigh in, but were ignored because they were feminists? Wouldn't surprise me, it happens all the time. Maybe that's what happened with the Lewis incident. The GLBT community, once again, ignored.
I forget how far we have to go sometimes. I live in a large urban area with multiple "gay neighborhoods" in town. I have friends who identify as gay, lesbian, pansexual, trans, and queer. But then I see how it really is.
Is it the Christian right, telling everyone that homosexuality is a sin? Is that the difference? I think we all need to be reminded that not long ago, we enslaved African Americans, used them for medical experiements, proved "scientifically" that they were different that whites, and interacial relationships were not just taboo, but illegal. Now, racist comments are generally not accepted in the mainstream and racism, though alive and thriving even, must operate pretty subtly. Not so with discrimination against the GLBT community. What's the difference? It's sad to me that people can't get over themselves and what they've been told and read a damn book. Do some damn research or some THINKING! There is homosexuality in the animal kingdom, to all of those who say it isn't a natural act. Straight people also participate in "unnatural" sexual practices. Marriage was originally a business contract, an exchange of the woman as property, and a smart financial decision. Now we've made it about heterosexual love and childrearing.
There are so many other points, but I know that at this point, it's just going to take time. People are still racist, years after civil rights legislation. I guess I can't expect much in a country where there is no marriage equality, adoption eqality, or where Fred Phelps has the right to speak. But, Phelps was sued recently, so that's a step. And why shouldn't I expect people to wrap their head around the fact that racism is no worse than any sort of discrimination and that discriminating against anyone hurts all of us? I guess I'm idealistic. I guess I should keep my secular, humanist views to myself as to not offend those people who so offend me with their ignorant hate of a community that I so dearly love.

"What happens to a dream deferred...does it explode?" -Langston Hughes

I have deferred a dream. Or, I have tried. It keeps coming back to me, at night, during the day... it is everywhere. A note to Langston Hughes: it doesn't explode. It marinates, it itches the back of throat, a space in the back of my brain, and the itch is moving forward. How long can a dream be deferred is my question. There are reasons I have pushed it aside, but perhaps better reasons to realize it. I hate the term "dream" because it's cliche... and it makes it sound ethereal... somehow not grounded or real. I have deferred a part of me. A part of me is not being acted out. I am lying by ommission.
What happens to a dream deferred...does it explode?
I want it to explode. I want to feel the burst within me, light the fire, crumble the walls, shoot out of every orifice of my body! ...but I am afraid. Or lazy.
Or realistic.