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Monday, August 18, 2008

Getting Down to the Nuts and Nuts of Homosexuality

If you wanna be gay, be gay. I mean, I'm not cool with it, but I won't call you out to your face. It's the acting like a chick that really irritates me. If a dude is gay, you'd think he'd like a dude that acts like a man, right? But if he's with a man that acts like a woman, then it's not a man that he wants, is it? It's a chick with a penis. What does that make him? Seriously confused.

I understand that homosexuality is a "lifestyle," but when did it become a way of life? Aside from actually being gay, why must one act gay? I started thinking about it when I saw a couple gay dudes holding a conversation on the bus, today. What make gay men act like women? The lisp, the voice change, the mannerisms. When you really think about it, it doesn't seem necessary. Does it happen naturally? Is it just a signal to other gays whose Gaydar isn't properly tuned? Maybe they're just proud to be FaBuLoUs!

That last explanation seems the most likely to me. I get the impression that in our "intolerant" world, gay men have fun throwing their homosexuality in our faces.
Pow!
Right in the kisser!
Pow!
Right in the kisser!
Pow!
Right in the kisser!
Pow!
Right in the kisser!
Like a big middle finger to "the establishment." Like "I'm gay, deal with it! Tee-hee-hee."

You may be wondering why I'm not talking about women. Probably because I can't spot the gay ones. Some chicks are just manly.

I guess my real question is this: What is homosexuality: an attraction to the same sex, or just the same sex organs? Because if it's all about organs, it's nothing more than another fetish, and all of this "woman trapped in a man's body" business is just bull.


I know that title is a bit much. Maybe my post is a bit much. But so is a man that sashes through the mall in a rainbow scarf and mismatched Converse, so I don't feel too bad about it...


Friday, August 15, 2008

Campus Awaits!

So. In the morning, I'll be returning to the wonderful campus of East Carolina University. I'm actually looking forward to it. Things have been pretty slow at home, but I'll take the blame for that.

The truth is, I really enjoy the days where I can just relax by myself. What can I say? Sometimes, being so close to friends becomes a bit like a job. They have expectations and you have obligations. See, I grew up without siblings. I never got used to having people around me all of the time. I like having my space. In the dorms, there are people around when I wake up, and people around when I go to sleep. Friends want to hang out for days at a time. I'm sorry guys, but I can't be around anybody for two days straight, with no time to myself. I get grumpy. I've got to get away. So if you see me walking around the mall alone, that's just me escaping you. Ellowel. No, really, you should say hi.

This summer, I enjoyed my time alone. I worked a stress-free part-time summer job and an internship. I spent the rest of my time relaxing, shopping, revisiting some fantastic albums and enjoying my new Playstation.

I'm ready for it, now. I'm pretty stoked, actually. I'm ready to get back to campus and connect with people again. I'm ready for the late night socializing. I'm ready for the classes. I'm ready to meet new women people. I'm ready for the dinning hall.


I wanted to leave you with a funny picture, but right now, I don't have time to look. My mom is irritating the crap out of me about packing. It's midnight, and she still won't go to sleep and leave me alone...

I'm out.


Tuesday, August 5, 2008

Sorry it took so long...

The few of you who knew this blog was coming know how long it took. You're reading the second post. That's a faux pas. I'll let it slide. Anyway, I figured I'd let my second post explain why the first one took so long. I am a perfectionist. For me, writing is very, very difficult.

But it's not because I can't write. I get excited when teachers assign papers. Easy points. I'll take a term paper over a final exam any day, spend 3 days on it, and grin when I turn it in. In other words, I eat papers like "nom nom nom." But those papers are graded by teachers, not me. They're never good enough for me; I've just learned to except the fact that they don't have to good enough for me to get an A. The last time I turned in a paper I was truly satisfied with was 11th grade. It was titled "Candy Era," or something similar. It was about America's unbending demand for instant gratification and complete inability to handle discomfort or disappointment.
That
was a sick paper.

With this blog, it's different. I've been writing for days, each time completely unsatisfied with what I wrote, then starting over. I've finally accepted that if I didn't stop rewriting, I would never post. I decided to just post my last draft. So, from this point, forward, there will be no rewrites. I'll be writing what's on my mind, hopefully without second guessing myself, and posting it.

Like so.


Saturday, August 2, 2008

Why blog? Do I have some deep or revolutionary message to promulgate to the masses? No.

Am I destined to enrich and educate all those who listen? No.

I just wanted an outlet to express the random babble that runs through my mind.

So, what should you expect from my blog? You can expect me to sit in front on my computer and type whatever comes to mind, until I get bored.

And so it begins...


I'm 21 years old, and I still don't understand the point in making my bed. Am I trying to convince people that no one sleeps in it? I've got to unmake the bed to get back in.

If you knew my bed wasn't made, would you love me any less?
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You know what else I don't get? Rap, today. Now, before you leave, thinking this is a typical attack on rap, I'm not going to talk about pointless lyrics and repetitive beats. I can understand that. That music is made for dancing, and it's good for it. The lyrics don't mean anything because they don't need to. I'm not going to talk about "concious rap," either. I can stand it, even if I rarely agree with the message.

What bothers me the most is the arrogance. Now, rapping has always walked hand-in-hand with confidence, all the way back to it's roots. But now, it seems like the rappers hailed as "the best," are their own biggest fans.

Why is it entertaining to hear someone brag about how great they are at braging about themselves? Sure, they may be capable of writing complex rhymes, but why not use that talent to say something?

Also, I heard that Ludacris said in a song that we should "paint the White House black" by voting for Barack. That made me laugh. What's even funnier is that Ludacris was encouraging black people to vote. If Diddy couldn't do it, Luda sure can't. It wouldn't make a difference, anyway. The Democrats have had African Americans in their pocket for ages. When it comes to politics, my people seem to have a problem thinking for themselves. It's like black people feel they have a duty to vote Democrat.
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What's the deal with Radiohead? They sound so bad...
_______

I'm the only person who feels hot in my house, and I'm the only one who feels cold
when I'm anywhere else.
_______

I have almost completely lost contact with my friends from high school. I bothers me, just not enough to pick up the phone. What can I say? They don't call me.
_______

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Why is that film students think their opinions on movies count more than those of anyone else?
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Did you know you can win a Pulitzer Prize for being a critic? Movies, books, music, architecture... If you're distinguished enough, you can get a Pulitzer. What the heck? I thought you had to write something important to get one of those. What a load crap. I have opinions! If I walk with my nose up and rag on some comedies, can I have a Pulitzer?
_______

Why do girls starve themselves to look like fashion models? Those people model to make the clothes look good, so women will buy them. Guys don't care about fashion models! Do you ever hear guys say, "Man, that Kate Moss sure is hot?" Probably not, unless you've asked me... My point is, if you're gonna starve yourself, look to the actresses for "thinspiration" - those are the women that men fawn over. Don't shoot for Kate Moss, think Jessica Alba.
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I guess that's what you can expect from this blog. Maybe, in the future, I'll try to stick to a topic.