Brother

  • "Normative definitions of masculinity[...]face the problem that not many men actually meet the normative standards[: ...]the difference between the men who cheer football matches on TV and those [playing]. But there is something more[...]carefully crafted[.... M]any men who draw the patriarchal dividend also respect their wives and mothers, are never violent towards women, do their[...]share of the housework[...], and can easily convince themselves that feminists must be bra-burning extremists."

     

    I've posted this once on my Xanga and once on Facebook before (largely because I really like the quote). While my brother and I were watching a football game a few days ago, I mentioned the quote to him and that it was nearly impossible for me not to notice this fact anymore whenever I watched anything related to football (or probably sports in general, for that matter).

    He nodded before noting, "The thing that I've noticed is that ideals exist for both men and women: it's just that women – at all times – are expected to follow, and are enforced to, the ideal; men usually just have to support it."

  • Never let it be said that timeliness is my strong suit. Alright, answers to the questions asked of me.

    @under_the_carpet asked:

    ok. I don't know how to exactly put it into a question. But I always wanted to know more about your faith. It'll be a few.
    I read you identify as catholic. To make it simple for me...WHY?
    How "gnostic"/agnostic are you?
    what do you do/think/feel when you stumble upon a 'rule' you actually disagree with? (or does that not happen?...I can't imagine.)
    How do you 'solve' the god vs gay question in your head, that I see so many people struggle with?

    Oh dear, you have asked a very complex and lengthy question that I'm not entirely sure I know all of the answer to. I was going to do a post trying to articulate some thoughts I've been developing on this very topic but, despite the many times I start, I haven't been able to bring anything to completion. Perhaps this may be a start.

    As I've said numerous times in a multitude of places, most of my friends (or, at least, the ones I have generally most felt comfortable around or the greatest intellectual connection with) have been atheists. The Midwest region of the United States is home to a wide range of Christian denominations with an inclination to groups such as evangelicals and fundamentals. The Chicago-land area is, thankfully, a little less strong in the general social acceptance of these groups but the influence and individuals are there just around the surface (as I'm pretty sure I've mentioned at least once in a post this year). Mauger whatever changes I've had in my personal beliefs (regardless of spirituality) and religious beliefs over the years, I think there's been a constant that I've felt safer amongst the irreligious; maybe that's because my sexuality has always made me unable to feel fully accepted in most religious circles; maybe, as I said, it's because I've had more in common, generally; maybe other reasons or all of the above.

    In college, I had doubts about the idea of God/s. While I've tossed out the fact casually a total of about five times since, I generally don't talk about that time period. I wasn't particularly happy there (though I'm sure there are many who eventually become atheists that feel the same feeling). The end result, however, was that I came to discover that I was far more strongly a religious person than even I had realized. For whatever reason, I tend to be inclined to the religious (as a concept, not the people, mind you); this was deafeningly clear to me when I was questioning whether to become an atheist. There are certain things which trigger off a sort of this-is-right-or-righteous-or-even-holy feeling for me; while I tend to value reason over feeling, I've found that particularly strong feelings tend to indicate something I think but haven't been able to put into rational words yet. The idea may be wrong but it's informative to know, generally, so I'll tuck it away and chew on it over time. There is a particular feeling I get when I encounter something I feel is fundamentally correct in a way. For example, I get that feeling when talking about governments and the freedom of religious belief. I don't know what to make of these feelings yet but I've found I also have them during religious experiences. This will be important later.

    You ask how agnostic I am (Gnosticism is an entirely particular belief system that I've found fascinating, flirted with, but ultimately leave not feeling inclined to join). Ever since I seriously contemplated the question (whenever that may've been), I've been of the firm belief that, given the information that we have at this moment in time (and, admittedly, given the You-can-do-ANYTHING quality we tend to ascribe to God), anyone who can say – with zero doubt – that there is or is not a God/s has lost all intellectual currency ze may have had in my eyes.

    Many atheists describe themselves as skeptics. I find that it's my skepticism that allows my religious belief. I simply cannot believe, with all that remains left unknown about the universe, that we can so soundly rule out the idea of God/s. Of course, any truly rational atheist would tell you that the degree of evidence inclining that there exists some supernatural being of the sort often described is outweighed by the evidence indicating that there is no such being; ze simply chooses to go with the more believable option. And that's fair; I'd be inclined to wager that atheists have a more sound argument, really. Still, I find myself religious.

    I do think part of it has to do with the fact that I tend to be a moral absolutist. Maybe it's also the fallout of being a rationalist. Everything has an answer. It may be complex and vary by certain conditions but everything can eventually be explained in a concrete way. When I first joined Williams Secular Community and we went around the room having each person say something that ze believed in, I wanted – as the sole religious person in that room – to say something other than "I believe in God" or something of that stripe. What I eventually decided on was "Perfect reason/logic is infallible". There is one vague bit to it, obviously. "Perfect logic" would seem to indicate that there is no contradiction or breaking of logical rules. The issue is, if you don't have information about something, you can't make certain deductions (e.g. if all you know about the sun and the moon is that they're round, you may say, "Sun = Moon," but that clearly isn't correct). So part and parcel to this idea is that all information relating to the subjects involved is considered and known.

    But I bring it up because I think it is indicative of my thinking process. To speak vaguely and allow variance until I have a greater understanding, I believe in a notion of Truth. We live in a reasonable and logical universe. It's a curious thing that there are even laws to our world, particularly if there is no creator; certainly it's not impossible for such world to exist without a creator (we would be the evidence) but it is curious. And I think, more so than the notion of a God existing, I have a need to believe that there is a sort of universal Truth that we can all reference and aspire to. I need order and I need logic; it doesn't have to be intellectually created (in the conversations I've had with my brother over the idea of an absolute morality, there has been some pretty fantastic discussions over the notions of systems (something that's a fascination of my own); assuming that there is no God, it's rather interesting the way that systems have been able to crop up naturally in our world and the way they sustain themselves in spite of it seeming they would need a designer). But, for whatever reason, I need to believe there is an order to the universe and a way that is proper to act in the same way we "all" acclaim the notion of freedom of speech for proper governments or believe in and celebrate the capabilities and self-belief in humanity as exercised through the government of a republic or believe in the great works and arts over time or believe in great ideas and celebrate philosophy. The greatest thought process that Western civilization ever accomplished was the notion that ideas could be ordered by logic and, by extension, you could come to finite conclusions about things, that not every single idea was necessarily correct. For better or for worse, I truly believe this.

    I tend to think that the notion of a Creator best explains this but, as I've mentioned, I do not necessarily think that has to be the case. To sort of put it another way and in relation, I once said on here, "If anything must be told about my spirituality, let it be said that intelligence was my religion, and education, my worship." If anything was ever to be described as my religious belief, it is these notions. Most everything else is debatable.

    Of course, none of that really explains "Why Catholicism?" (oh dear, this is probably going to take a while – but you asked the question). There was a moment, one time, when I was with my sister (and in a somewhat giddy and snarky mood) when I remarked (and, no, I don't recall what excited this remark), "The Evangelical believes that the root of all things tie back to God and, due to this, we ought to worship Him; all reasoning proceeds from thus and it is all he or she pursues. The Catholic, however, seeks Truth."

    For those (generally those who tend to have a thing against Catholicism) who might take that to insinuate that God is not important to Catholics, I would easily respond that, of course, Catholics believe all things proceed to and from God but that is merely a portion of the Truth.

    To somewhat explain my snark* and to provide another example, I have a very dear friend of mine who grew up in a very fundamentalist, evangelical town (though, really, she's  not the first friend I've had who's had a very negative experience in such an environment); as someone who was remotely agnostic (her parents are Unitarians), most of her time there was having people trying to convert her, feeling continually judged, and just pretty much being treated poorly (by my own standards, at the very least). By the time she got to college (thus where I met her), she was a fairly bitter, hard-line atheist. I forget the exact details of the story but she overhead (somewhere) an eventual mutual friend of ours mention that he was Catholic (maybe it was some orientation event?); shortly after, she cornered him on a bus the group was riding and, without much ceremony, immediately started grilling him regarding religious belief and why it was positively ridiculous to have any.

    During this, she asked him, "Well, I don't believe; does this mean I'm going to Hell?" to which, with some confusion, he responded, "No." This took her a bit by surprise; as far as she had ever been taught, this was what religion boiled down to: believe or perish. So she asked, "You don't?" After a moment of hesitation, his response was, "I believe Catholicism is the best way but not the only way."

    One more example. There's a book my mother has somewhere upstairs either written by or written about the pastor of the mega-church my aunt attends. On the back of the book, in large letters prefacing the book summary, is a quote that says, "People matter to God; therefore, they should matter to us," (or something of the like). Fundamentally, such a notion could only occur from one who takes the Evangelical path to logical reasoning (okay, that's not entirely true but quite frequently). In contrast to this, I think it was Pope Benedict who said that sex purely for pleasure, even in the confines of a relationship, is selfish because the other person is, thus, neglected. I, ultimately, disagree with His Holiness's proof but there's still a marked difference between the two forms of reasoning. The pope tries to give a reasoned response and justification. The pastor has just said, "Well, God says so."

    While I've explained "Why Religion" for me, I think the best explanation for "Why Catholicism" is simply that, for all its flaws and pitfalls, Catholicism is the closest thing to what I want in a religion here on Earth.

    And I think that, in particular, is what most people don't get when they suggest for Catholics to convert to elsewhere. Protestantism, as a whole, is not really an avenue because I simply do not believe in being saved by Faith. I could probably be alright with a holy book inerrancy sort of deal but not with the sort of limiting views that that tenet is often taken to; I am always brought to appreciate more greatly that Catholics have Tradition and the Magisterium to pull from to better understand the Bible.

    While the more liberal Protestant branches are probably more to my own political persuasion, I often find that the conservative criticism that, for them, "anything goes" holds true. It's very important to me that what you do is purposeful and fully thought out. I don't want to join a church simply because that was how I was raised and I want that special feeling (though, of course, that can be important). I want to make sure that, if my bible says it's okay to rape women, I have an actual response as to why that is. There was a liberal church in the middle of the campus of my college that was very awesome; they often worked with the Queer Student Union on campus, were very involved in social justice, etc. Being part of the QSU and InterFaith, I also worked with them. During conversation one time, the pastor mentioned that the church had been so focused on social justice (I believe that may have been the reason for their founding) that they've been trying to sort of rediscover their roots; while on this path, she mentioned that they were discovering all sorts of new things (as any root-searching should entail), including that there were parts of the bible they found they didn't particularly like. For me, dealing with those sorts of things would be where I'd build my base from.

    People often assume that it's the High Church and elaborate liturgy I like and often suggest the Episcopalians or some of the Lutherans. But what these fail to realize are the ways in which Catholicism itself is quite unique. I'll see if I can do it any justice in trying to point it out.

    I doubt I'll really explain it well but, if any religion could claim the title, you could argue that Catholicism is wedded to intellectualism. Perhaps extremely influenced by Roman and Greek culture (i.e. the Hellenic culture that had culminated by the time of the Roman empire), many in the early church philosophied about their religion (it's probably what earned religion the title of Queen of the Sciences). It's why they came to believe that God made the world ex nihilo (out of nothing): if God had to stoop to making the world out of existing material, that means there are things which even God couldn't control/do, etc. which would make Him less than an ultimate God. They attempted to apply the philosophy (much to many other denomination's dislike) of Plato/Aristotle. When the empire fell, a lot of the books and records were kept safe by monks. This often means that the theology of Catholicism is so much more elaborate and complex and, in turn, deep. God gave us a brain: "We ought to use it" is the answer of Catholicism.

    Once (I think when a televangelist came on the T. V.), I remarked to my brother, "I don't think I could ever stand worshiping in a religion that didn't have a liturgy." Of course, my smart-ass atheist brother responds, "I don't think I could ever stand worshiping in any religion." Maybe it's because I'm a writer and English major but I take symbolism and gestures very seriously. Naturally, liturgy is very cool to me (and also very beautiful; have you heard the chants Catholics and the Orthodox have churned out?). And, to a degree, I really like ritual. I'm not entirely sure why. The Catholic response is that, when we worship, we should worship with more than just our minds: the entire bodies ought to be involved in the process.

    And the last way I can attempt to let you understand "Why Catholicism" is the Catholic conception of the Church. I don't know how familiar with Christian theology you are but the idea of the Church is important to the religion. After the Protestant Reformation, the idea of what the Church is was to be understood as the body of Christian believers. This is partially, I think, why you have so many denominations and a lot of people feel comfortable (in the U. S., at least; I've heard it's a phenomenon frequent to us) church hopping: go the Methodists one week, go the Lutherans another Sunday.

    For Catholics, we believe that the Church is the institution founded by Christ and as it exists today. But the Church is more than just an institution. It is the body of Catholic believers but also an instrument through which the Holy Spirit works. The pope doesn't get infallibility because we decided we wanted to listen for the rest of our lives to whatever an elected member had to say. The pope is infallible because (in theory) God the Spirit is working through him and guiding him as He is working through the entire Church.

    You might respond with, "So what?" The significance of this is that God is active constantly through the institution that you reside in. It is not just that you're attending church; you are in the Church. It's for this reason that the Sacraments (Baptism, Confession, Marriage) can make sense to us while it just confuses other denominations as a pathway for Grace. It's not just actions being performed, they are actions being performed by and in the Church; it is God working through us. In a real physical way, God is presenting Himself before us.

    And with that, there's this real sense of security I have as a Catholic that goes beyond just belonging to an organization that is huge. Anytime I go to a Catholic Church, I know any Sacrament I may receive is valid and facilitated by God, regardless of who is giving me the Sacrament and their past. I think that's also why a lot of Catholics have remained Catholic in spite of the scandal and abuse recently: there are terrible people in our Church, as in all institutions, but they are not all of what the Church is. The Church spans across generations and is more than that. We would rather call for greater accountability and try to call for prosecution from within rather than ever leave the Church.

    When I was younger and dealing with the fact that there were certain attitudes within Catholicism that I didn't quite agree with, I'd take comfort in the fact that something like 60% of Catholics didn't obey what came from the Vatican. But, in a real way, we never stopped being Catholics. We still attended Mass, went to Sunday or Catholic schools, socialized in the circles, prayed in the same buildings, went to confession under the same priests. I don't think I understood it then but the reason I could find such strength inside those Cathedral walls while fragrantly disregarding the hierarchy was because, I knew, we were right. And in the end, that's what God cares about (Catholicism is about finding Truth). And we were safe within His halls of His Church. Frankly, the only other religion I can think of with anything close to such a concept is Mormanism.

    And I guess that's a good place to address your question of what do I do if I come across something I don't agree with. In technicality…there isn't anything. And part of this stems from the fact that most people don't understand how Church doctrine is formed. All that which is declared infallible and dogma is binding. Anything less is decreasing levels of required adherence but not anything which cannot change in the future.

    So, for example, I believe Purgatory has been dogmatically defined. You can't be a Catholic if you don't believe in Purgatory. However, while the hierarchy's position at the moment is that homosexuality is "severely disordered" (as in against the order of the universe), it is not something dogmatically defined yet. To a certain degree, I like this because it gives us a stable base from which build knowledge and keep unified. Someone like Curtis (who I really rarely agree with) and I can talk about something pertaining to Catholicism and be entirely on the same level because we both are Catholic.

    And I think the last thing I'll mention as to why I'm a Catholic is that, as far as I can see, Catholicism is the only religion that still seems to be growing. Most religions really tie themselves to the idea that nothing will ever change about them; they will always honor their past. Which, to be honest, is true of Catholicism (kinda hard not to be when it's a religion that uses Tradition as an authoritative source). But Catholicism doesn't change in that whatever it declares dogma can never be revised; other religions never change in the sense that everything they've done in the past is all they'll ever do (I once had someone who was Orthodox tell me that the Orthodox have it right because they've changed nothing since (I think…) the Forth Council; Catholicism, on the other hand, comes out with a new dogma "every two years"). The idea of Catholicism is that the Truth is never changing – we just don't know all of it yet; over time, we gain a greater and greater insight into what that Truth is. Which, really, is the basic idea of discovery. But it means that really interesting things happen and not everything is quite understood. For example, we know that, for whatever reason, the Sacraments were established for transmuting Grace and that Baptism redeems the soul of the Original Sin. And yet current thought within the Church is that people who haven't been baptized can be saved. After all, what about babies that die before the chance to be baptized? I don't believe the idea of Limbo has been entirely thrown out yet but you don't have many clamoring towards the idea. So, if you can be saved without baptism…what's the point of baptism?

    As far as I know, the Church's answer is that we don't know. We'll eventually know. But not yet.

     

    All that said, I'd be lying if I said that Catholicism is everything I want. While women ordination and homosexuality haven't been dealt with as dogma yet, either of those being dogmatically banished would probably force me to have to find another religion. There's the fact that the notion of preparing for shabbat has always elicited that feeling of something being *right* in me…and I had never prepared for shabbat until I had reached college.

    And there's the real troubling fact that Christianity tends to start from this path of "We're all guilty". It's true that Catholicism does a bit better in being firm that the Original Sin is not a sin for which any of us are at fault for (even if we still bear the scar upon our souls) but there is a *real* problem that I have with this notion of guilting ourselves (at its worse, I've seen people make the argument that none of us deserve Heaven, even just-born babies).

    The New Testament is actually rather interesting in terms of its political stances and the ways it tries to reverse common norms (the most well known one being the notion of the weak/meek being powerful/"the stone that the builder rejected"). And so it goes with the notion of works. Yeah, being good? Throw out everything you thought you ever had to do. You actually have absolutely *no way* of doing it without Him.

    Which, in a way, I get. It's the ultimate type of trust exercise. Throw out any expectation of your abilities and your capability to do anything and just entirely trust that He's got this.

    What I absolutely hate about this notion is that, when you take away a sense of responsibility and choice in the direction of your life, it's hard to really impart a sense of…awareness in people. I earnestly think this is why my friend who grew up around fundamentalists was treated so amazingly poorly. Those people have ceased entirely thinking about any of the actions they're committing and how they're treating her; in their minds, the most important thing is you follow Jesus (BECAUSE NOTHING ELSE MATTERS) and, if you don't follow Him, you're breaking the cardinal rule. And that's the scope of their thoughts. You can't get to "Well, let's think about how you're treating her" because, literally, nothing else matters beyond whether or not you're following that rule of believing in Jesus. Anything outside of it is wrong. Why? Because anything we do outside of trusting entirely in God and getting others to do so as well is irrelevant. Irrelevant.

    And I get that, in some way, it was trying to respond to a sort of legalism that was cropping up and the sort of people who do good just to look good. But I really think that when you start from a point of "You are disordered without Me", you endue this real sense of inferiority in individuals. I truly believe a just God doesn't tell you you're shit so you better believe in Me (but that's gonna be difficult too 'cause, you know, you're disordered) but tries to build the individual up. Let's stop focusing on following this one inane rule (and worrying about all the suffering you'll get otherwise) and instead focus on the fact that you're not entirely terrible (but wonderful in many ways) and that doing better and being a better person is important because it'll make you better and it's important to treat others well. The important thing is NOT how many times you fail but how much closer you are to making the world a better place because, really at the end of the day, it's every one that's important.

    I do think Catholicism is a bit better at this; a lot of denominations disagree with it because Catholicism teaches that you can lose your salvation even if you believe in God: your actions are of important. Still, there are some strains of serious guilting and "Forgive us Lord because we are so unforgivable!" that I find to really be just unhealthy and abusive habits.

    I also sometimes have to remind myself that our understanding changes. It was once understood that "There is no salvation but within the Church" meant within Catholicism but it's now understood as the Church being tied to that notion of the Truth; Catholicism is the best path but not the only one. That's a big change in meaning though the dogma didn't change at all. So who knows.

     

    Anyway, if you don't find religion interesting, all of that must've been terribly tedious and boring and I apologize. I'll answer your last question further below since Danni asked a similar one.

     

    @XxbutterflyknivesXx asked:

    You've indicated on Facebook, and partly here, that you strongly support the LGBTQ movement...and a lot of the time people support movements because they've experienced struggle...is there's a story behind it? Do you identify as a different sexuality than hetero/are you closes to someone who does?

    Man, you guys go straight for the meaty questions. I should be able to keep this one shorter than the last answer.

    I've always firmly believed that it shouldn't have to take personal involvement to be passionate about something. Caring about others should be something that we just do. The two examples I usually bring up is that I've never self-injured or been Trans and yet I'm supportive of these communities (though, to be fair, a good portion of my ex-girlfriends and friends have had histories of self-harm and an ex-boyfriend and friends of mine have been Trans). I've never quite understood that notion of "Well, it doesn't affect me, so why should I care?" I tend to make decisions constantly by thinking from others perspectives and trying to think who I might be disadvantaging with a particular decision; it always catches me off-guard when others don't do that (and it's usually pretty obvious pretty quickly when someone is making a decision based off their own interest and clearly haven't considered anyone else's) though I suppose that's naïve of me.

    I do identify as bisexual (though I suppose the ex-boyfriend part above may've given that away). But, at the time that I really jumped into the movement (I sorta consider that moment when I decided, in spite of my parents' opinions on the matter, to attend a meeting of my high school's Gay-Straight Alliance; I was quite a bit homophobic before that moment; thank God for change), I was taking the route of "God doesn't approve but I believe everyone has the choice so I'm going to support others ability to have that choice". So I really wasn't doing it on my behalf, frankly. The slow and rather boring story of my coming out was this slow progression of my views on the subject changing until I finally reached a point where I fully accepted myself and was able to see all the fascinating history and ideas that the Queer community really does have to offer. So you don't really get any dramatic conflict about my identity; I just slowly made decisions and, really, was very comfortable about who I was and what I believed.

    Which doesn't mean there aren't cool stories, of course. As you might imagine, I was *quite* the closet case throughout all of high school. I told people I trusted and it got to the point that I had to keep tabs on who I had told and whatnot; that way, I could also keep track of when someone I didn't tell had found out and figure out who was blabbing. Seriously, I was so far into the closet back then. I came out at the very end of my Senior year (I was graduating, going out East; it seemed safe). Beforehand, I messaged just about everyone I had secretly come out to (thus people I trusted) and talked it over with them. Then I came out on Facebook (ahh, the Internet age…). Everyone was so amazingly supportive. It's honestly one of my favorite memories. And, I guess, since I had the big coming out, it always confuses me when people don't want that (but, then again, I always had a thing for dramatics). For me, my coming out was such a huge moment in my life; you know, it's making a very big decision about what you believe and who you're going to be. I've always wanted to get in the habit of having a party every time the day I came out comes around but I haven't gotten around to doing it yet. It was just this moment of baring a very personal part of me to all these friends who were really important to me and who I think so very highly of and it was just great to feel that same respect and love back.

    If you do identify as a sexuality other than hetero, how has that been met? I know, and someone else has mentioned, that you're Catholic...has your family/other people in your faith had a problem with you?

    Well, I did have someone tell me I was possessed by a demon once so that was fun. Though, really – since I generally don't care too much what strangers think of me –, I think the largest difficulty has been from the family. Siblings and cousins have been fantastically supportive. I generally just don't talk about it with any of those over-40 folks. My dad knows. And I have a feeling I could probably get my mother to accept it (one of the uses of taking 4–5 years to accept yourself while being active in the cause is the parents just sorta get used to it). I just don't care to. But, of course, you always have to be vigilant, regardless of how much you might not care what strangers think. I'm truly amazed at how much things have changed since the beginning of high school when it comes to public acceptance (and how about from there since the 60s?). But people are assholes and, unfortunately, hate crimes are a real thing. I've been generally safe from any of that so far, though.

    Also, what do you do? I remember, you have a major in English, yeah? Or are you taking the gre to get the degree for what you want to do? I know a lot of people do graduate school because what they want to do requires more. Sorry if that's a stupid question.

    That's correct. And I also have Computer Science and Women's, Gender, and Sexuality Studies degrees. And they have earned me no occupation. Though, frankly, I do feel that part of that is simply that jobs expect work experience. That can be, in many ways, more important than the degrees you have. Partially because my coping method for both my depression and my parents was shutting everything out and partially because my parents didn't seem to find it important to explain this clearly, I did not spend my summers in college looking for internships or some way to pad my résumé. Now I've been trying to find work in a poor economy while balancing a severe sleeping problem along with a general social anxiety and my raging depression. It's not been well.

    I'm considering grad school simply since it's been a year now that I've been unemployed. If I could get a Master's (without sinking myself in debt) for Comp. Sci. or English, it might help in getting a job. I also wouldn't mind becoming a professor somewhere. But my grades weren't so great so who knows. I'll keep you updated.

    If it's not weird or intrusive...how much younger is your little sister? 

    Heh, not in the least. She's seven years younger. Now I'm just curious, why do you ask?

    How does the writing process work for you? Do you plan, or do you just sit down and write? Because, if you just sit down and do it...that's kinda impressive. I feel like your work should be in a literary magazine or something, and not just buried on xanga.

    Well now, that is a high compliment, particularly considering that I've submitted pieces to places before and none took (though, to be fair, I haven't submitted to many places); I hadn't realized you thought so highly of them. Thank you, sincerely.

    Honestly, I'm terrible at just jumping into things. Probably also my perfectionism but I need to have a full idea of what I'm doing before I start. That being said, I pulled "A Memory" from a larger piece of flash writing I had done. That last post I did was three lines from something longer I wrote years ago without thinking it through. And the new thing I'm working on (involving the characters Chrissy, Amy, 'Rome, and James) has been (largely) just written down without a great deal of pre-thought though that's because it's not as short as I usually tend to make my pieces and I have a feeling I'll never get anything done if I be my usual anal self.

    I think, either way, the thing that's consistent is that I tend to sit and chew and edit on things until I get them right. I'll notice something I hadn't before and then do edits. Sometimes I'll force myself to write something I then think I'll throw away just in case I come back in 6 months and decide that I actually was going somewhere and just need to flesh it out (or if there's a piece in there that would be great without all the extra fluff I wrote).

     

    Aaaand that should be it. Hope I answered your guys' questions well enough.

     

     

     

    *I'm usually incredibly slow to pass judgment or assume things simply because I could be wrong. The only real area where I'm generally willing to be strict in an opinion is when it comes to harming others. As such, I generally try to refrain from speaking negatively about Evangelicalism as if it's a given; that said, I have no a great deal of people who've been harmed by members of that religion and have generally found the culture that it propagates to be unhealthy not only for those who come into contact with it but also those who practice it. Obviously, no one enjoys being greeted on the terms of "Your religion is terrible" so I try to refrain and keep an ear open as to whether I may actually be wrong but I, at times, forget myself.

  • We went to see a parade in Barrington today for the 4th. This already feels like it's going to sound like a play-by-play and disjointed but oh well.

    Towards the end, there was this girl handing out BBQ pulled-pork (I think? Can't remember) samples for a restaurant in the downtown. It was pretty good so, for lunch, we all decided to go down there.

    I still don't remember if I was simply caught off guard (we happened to notice the girl who gave us the samples behind the counter when we arrived) or if there really was just something there but I was rather thoroughly struck by…I dunno, how open and friendly the other girl behind the counter seemed.

    I don't know whether I've necessarily ever discussed here (or anywhere, for that matter) why I always keep such a buoyant outward mood to the point of (I feel like it sometimes becomes) being exaggerative (I was going to also say hyperbolic but I think, given the definition of hyperbole, I would actually be okay with it being hyperbolic; it fits the bill). Yes, sure, there's the old I-have-depression-and-don't-want-to-drag-you-down-with-me but you don't have to even necessarily be outwardly happy to do that. Being anti-social and not talking to people could accomplish that one.

    It's that, one, I legitimately just want to get along with everyone and like being nice to people. I know it doesn't fit the motif of being mysterious or withdrawn or stoic for masculinity but I just feel happier being open with people. I want to be friendly.

    But it's also that people just seem to tend to be…unfriendly. And for seemingly no good damn reason. My brother and I were discussing race and I mentioned that, up North, I really don't seem to find that awkwardness that I've heard other people mention. He responded that he feels that all the time. Now, this is the kid who has diamond earrings and had an afro that is now dreadlocks; he's not exactly ducking into traditional white social mores in regards to his appearance. And I'm not saying that getting poor responses to his physical dress is not a problem; far be it for me to ever do that. Nor am I saying that the North is devoid of racism (one of the points of credit that the movie Premium Rush – about bike messengers in NYC – received was that it was one of the few Hollywood movies to depict the racial diversity of NYC more accurately to what NYC is actually like; to be fair, you'd never be able to levy such a complaint, ever, about Chicago and there's no way that that's an accident). And it's not like there weren't people in high school who found fit to define me by my race first (generally joking and friends I was close with so I generally didn't mind but, still, there was a slight trend which just highlighted further the fact that I probably knew a grand total of five other black students only once I got to my Senior year). And, certainly, being followed around in a convenience store is not the same as the number of racial jokes rising the moment I enter the group which is also not the same as people giving my brother dirty stares because of his hair style (which may just be because they're unfamiliar with the hair style and find it unkempt, etc.); those are all very different, complex situations.

    But I find, even for generally straight-laced me, that people are continually just bizarrely rude. Or awkward (without, to me, reason to be but I can make a pretty mean awkward situation in my own right so I probably shouldn't hold anyone to task for that one). Despite my being overly friendly, people don't precipitate. And maybe it is a race thing; I dunno, maybe my brother's right. Regardless, people aren't friendly because they're generally stupid and so I just smile and be friendly and ask questions or make jokes and I don't give a damn whether you laugh or respond or shit.

    But it also means I'm all the more happy and thankful when I find someone who actively tries to be friendly to others as well. I like friendliness. It's in low supply and helps the world go round.

    In any case, my brother and I have gotten into the habit of, after running into a girl somewhere, questioning whether she was actively flirting with either of us. I think it's partially from irony given the fact that I generally assume not and tend to be the shy one of the group (the conversation usually goes with me saying, "Naw…" while my brother, and maybe a third party, going, "Ohh, yeah, it was definitely obvious!") but also just to be ridiculous. After all, friendliness certainly does not necessarily flirtation mean.

    You can imagine how the conversation throughout lunch might go. This isn't helped by the fact that the girl stops over at our table to pet my sister's dog (though, to be fair, the girl came back later to ask if she could take a picture of Shiver to show her mom since she used to have a dog of the exact same breed; I may be bad at flirting but I'm pretty sure you use the dog to start the conversation and then direct your attention to whomever you're interested in flirting with).

    Of course, my mother doesn't seem to exist for any other reason than to try to play matchmaker for all her children at every second of every day. And, being my mother, the reason she uses is that "She's pretty."

    I actually would have said gorgeous but that's neither here nor there (I almost want to describe her but I can't really without beginning to strongly feel like I'm objectifying so I won't; the point for doing so is that, while not greatly, I think she fell outside, somewhat, "mainstream" beauty standards. Part of my own drawing, I imagine, and also why my mother described her as pretty while I'm using much stronger language).

    But as I'm mulling these thoughts over…what real defense do I have to ask this girl out? I mean, I'm in an unfortunate place emotionally while trying to get my life together. I'm still not done with my hermit-ing to heal myself for the future that may lose me near to all my friends come the end (there's only so long any person should have to endure the isolation of another). That's not a wise position to start anything with anyone, really.

    But, even beyond that…she seems really friendly and she likes dogs (something which is very wonderful in any person; pets can potentially tell you quite a bit about a person). And that's it. Well, she also works at this restaurant which potentially looks family owned. Which is interesting but doesn't necessarily mean anything. And when you compare that to the many more things that entail any form of a relationship, those few things are downright minimal. Certainly nothing that can justifying trying to start a relationship given the position I'm in with my life.

    And, most of the time I was there, I found myself drawn to her…but on what basis? Even I couldn't really answer you that beyond that I found her pretty. And while I've played with the notion of how people look playing into who they are as a person, I more often find that that area is so phenomenally complex that you generally can't glean anything from there without knowing more about the person to start connecting dots (if physical appearance beyond how a person dresses/styles themselves can tell you anything at all). Even I tried, all I could really boil it down to is a hunch: she seemed interesting. Maybe she would be; I wouldn't know.

    But it just overwhelmingly confronted me with the fact that, as a system, physical attractiveness still completely and utterly eludes any logical attempts to justify itself. Certainly to fit into just about any merit-based system that we, as humans, have ever devised (which, really, are just about the only systems I'm interested in using).

    I think that I can honestly say that this, more than anything, is what makes me question the notion of a God that created an ordered and logical universe. The more I think about it, the more that it being just a byproduct of evolution and pure chance that worked seems to be the only answer that rightly explains its existence.

  • I remember there was one moment my brother, eager about music as he often is, was mentioning a line from a rap song he had heard recently that he really liked. Unsurprisingly, this sparked a comment from my mother about how much she hated rap. My father chimed in as well, noting that what he particularly couldn't stand was the arrogance and bragging. My mother notes that there's "just too much cursing".

    In regards to the bragging, my brother gives the argument that's been given before: they strove so much to get where they are and came from so little; they've earned, to quote Kanye, the "right to be a little bit snobbish".

    I ask whether Catcher In the Rye would be the same novel without Holden's candid expletives.

    My father says he feels that's different.

     

    I'd have to agree.

    Granted, I think the notion has weight in the context of a well-put-together album such as Reasonable Doubt or the like. And I think there is something interesting and worth studying in seeing a genre – that is largely produced and put out by a group of people consistently kept economically deficient – should find a study of wealth to literally be a past-time. Kanye, in particular (or at least I'm most familiar with him), is rather good at illuminating the source of such consistent and, arguably, negative habits within rap.

    However, – much as the sexism and misogyny in rap often tries to be explained away – I don't think all bravado can be so cleanly explained away. Some of it's irritating; and some of it really isn't healthy (within the culture of hip hop and for human beings in general, though I wouldn't say all of it is). And, in general, I don't think most of the bragging and trash talk can be explained with simply "You deserve to be able to do this".

     

    I just don't care.

    Granted, I grew up as a kid off of Detroit rap (largely because my introduction into rap was Eminem). So I have a particular affinity for rap battling. Add to that that Midwestern rap does have an appreciation punchlines and wordplay and that my second area of interest was East Coast rap, I have a large appreciation for clever wordplay and creative raps.

    I really like trash talk, so long as the trash talker can back it up. Other than working on sentence structures in writing (in part because I'm more of a nerd than I know what to do with), there's a great rush from hearing someone talking about how great they are and then proving it. I dunno, I imagine it's the same rush most rap listeners (or, given the influence rap has had on pop music, any music listener of the 21st century) have to listening to someone brag. I guess it's some vicariousness we've got going on. I dunno.

    But, for an example that makes more sense, there's also this real rush to hearing a really clever punchline or witty bit, particular those that make you have to think about it for a moment so that you laugh more than you really should once you get it.

    like the juvenile wordplay of Da Ruckus:

    I told you once, but you forget so here's a flashback
    "You couldn't be shit, if you came out my asscrack"

    Or Beastie Boys':

    So put a quarter in your ass 'cause you played yourself

    Or Juice's pun:

    I haven't even started my reign: I'm only drizzling

    Or even corny ones from Jay-Z that I still enjoy just because I somehow managed to miss it the first time around:

    Flyer that a piece of paper bearing my name

    Or other ones which I just can't seem to think of at the moment because I'm blanking.

    Sometimes, you just want to hear good, old-fashioned, clever trash talk.

    The vibe is unsettling: as soon as the verse cuts,
    I kill 'em with the medley and then ready the hearse up
    Overflowin' on the levy and it's ready to burst up:
    Those that wanna get me, wanna sweat me, get burned up
    I make 'em feel like they flows is in the amazon,
    On the land being stampeded, gettin' trampled on
    They can't beat it: so damn heated, they can't respond
    And I'm so damn weeded, I can't see 'em – so carry on…

    Yerp, that'd be the stuff.

  • Well, @XxbutterflyknivesXx tapped me for this so here I go. The idea is 16 things about-yourself/you-like.

     

    1. I'm still becoming a writer because I want to see God.

    2. I use someone's name when trying to get to know people (and also because I'm terrible at remembering names and this helps). It grabs zir attention (a truly difficult thing to keep for people, it would seem) because you address zem directly, points that ze's notable to you because you've remembered zir name, and makes a sentence more personalized.

    Or, at least, so goes my reasoning; I don't know if it actually works as well at it might logically seem to. People have a tendency to generally not gravitate to reserved, and often dry, Me at initial meetings (which can extend into further acquaintances).

    Within the past few years, it's turned into my own quirk of a way to signify that someone has grabbed my attention or that I see and recognize zem and would like to get to know zem better. While I've never bothered to keep track of how often I've used people's names, I don't think I do this as much with those I know well or am close to (given they should already know that I want to know them as people, etc.). But for those I don't know as well, it's a sort of signifier (even if I'm the only one aware of it or what it means).

    3. I have attempted over a period of time to test out every type and amount of sleep in an attempt to reign it in. For reasons I have no understanding of, my body wants 12 hours of sleep or more; there is actual medical evidence of people having this condition with no known reason and no known cure. In college, going to sleep became an ordeal because you slay half of your day this way and completely obliterate the ability or morale to do work. When my depression would get particularly bad, I'd stay in bed for as long as 24 hours. While I think it was the depression that kept me from wanting to get out of bed, I think my body was perfectly fine with going back to sleep. It literally never tires of it.

    I think the best sleep I ever get (with a feeling that the sleep was actually regenerative) is going to bed on complete and thorough exhaustion or when my body wakes up after a short interval of sleep (3, 4.5, or – at most – 6 hours) on its own because I've been forcing myself to wake up after short hours (ranging from between 15 to 30 minutes or the previous hours I gave). Of course, 12 hours of sleep results in me being tired again in 6 hours and the short bursts of sleep are not remotely retainable.

    I kept myself strictly aiming for no more than 4.5 hours or sleep but getting between that and 8 hours for two or three months not too long ago. This eventually gave way to my body sleeping as much as it could again.

    I'm just sick of being perpetually exhausted.

    4. I love individuals, hate people, and idealize humanity.

    5. I tend to attach a lot of symbolic value to things (one of the fallouts of being a writer?). For example, I, undeniably, adore Caroline. I've known her ever since Junior year of high school, she's wonderfully loyal, and an amazing friend who has always stuck by me, no matter what. But, in spite of those things (or maybe they are because of this), Caroline also came to me through Victoria. Well before she was my Freshman, she was Victoria's. And, as we already know, I think very highly of Victoria. She could've just as much as said anything in high school and I would've taken it into consideration. So, in a sense, Caroline comes with Victoria's seal of approval. I doubt Victoria put that much thought into it. She probably met Caroline and simply took to the girl. But Caroline will always have that sense of approval and connection in my eye. That sort of, "Well, anyone who's a friend of _______ is a friend of mine," rationalization we often use; I don't know anything about you – but you're from ______'s camp and that's enough for me. That sort of loyalty and trust that goes with such a sentiment.

    Likewise, Lauren was one of the first people I ever met at Williams and was in my Freshmen orientation group. We got along, had a bit in common, and did some activities together. Nothing exceedingly great. I think we saw each other a total of 5 individual times after orientation over my four years at Williams. We weren't exactly best buds or anything (though she's a pretty cool person so I'll always be fond of her). Yet she was one of the first people I met and got along with in a new state at a new school miles from home and familiarity. She will always be someone I consider important to me because of this, regardless of how close we stay or become over the years.

    For yet another example, we randomly made a pact we were going to get a pug at one point, Lizzie. As such, this will still occur.

    6. I have a creeping suspicion that I have some form of anxiety. This actually is terrifying to me.

    As I've said already in a million different places a million different times, life is performance for me a good 90% of the time. And it's so thoroughly tiring. Beyond having to use just about all my concentration to read social cues and follow them whenever I interact with people, every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every week of every fortnight of every month of every year is a continual and constant process of keeping control of my emotions and keeping myself stable. Not even happy, just maintaining stability and keeping myself from depression.

    While it's a taxing process that circumvents what I can do during a particular moment (despite the insistence of tasks or activities I should do and micromanagement of others every other day), I still have control. Anxiety, quite simply, is not control. I imagine it's controllable; I know there are those who manage panic attacks and the like every day. But it's yet more work to tack on and I don't know I have the strength for it. Nor the time.

    7. I imagine the above is the reason I cannot stand when others don't bother to play nice or even bother to show an attempt at being friendly when I consistently do so. I am holding back and keeping in check my emotions in spite of that difficulty when I would much like to have the freedom to yell or be blunt about my feelings (if this xanga is not evidence enough of) or simply react slack-jawed because it's effort to even display emotion or even talk sometimes and you can't even muster being friendly back at me?

    8. I can be a massive pack-rat. It's partially because items carry not only memory but information about their time and place and partially because items can often be reused or used later.

    For an example, I was pasting and cutting some files before realizing that I didn't want to move them quite yet. Stupidly, I hit cancel. Well, the transfer was in the middle of moving a video of a band induction ceremony (thus the only version being the one I had taken). Canceling is caused the video to be half moved, creating a new 4 minute copy of the 8 minute clip. Panicking and not being able to think of any way to restore the file or if I had (stupidly, I had not) made a copy of the file, I decided to look through the my backed up files from before I dual-booted my computer with Windows and Linux. I have about three backups from different years. Not only was a copy of the video in one of them but it's not the first time some file has been lost (not always my fault) and I had it stored in an old backup.

    People keep telling me that it's an inane habit and yet I have so many instances in which I've found joy and use from my packrattiness.

    9. I never fully understood the whole concept of not being friends with your exes or members of the opposite sex (maybe because my bisexuality sort of would mean a person would have to worry double time) due to your current SO feeling uneasy about it.

    First off, (if you can't trust the person to that extent) you're probably going to have a bad time.

    Secondly, most of my friends are female and a few of my exes are some of the closest friends I have. I've always believed a proper relationship, even if failed, should bring the people closer together and that has definitely happened for a few of them. Arguably, you could say that all of my few best friends are female. As such, I fully intend to stay friends with them and that will include future activities like going to see shows or getting lunch, etc. If I'm with someone, it is with full commitment so long as I am with zem. If you can't trust my word on that…well, deal?

    10. While I've often jokingly noted that most Bruce Springsteen fans are twice my age, I've been lucky in that my favorite artist is still alive and producing work (even if I've been critical of that later work). I don't think many people get the luck of having their childhood artist, the one they grew up on and memorized and spent far too much time obsessing over, still alive and active. Hell, I've been to two Springsteen concerts. Nothing legendary but I still get the bragging rights to say that.

    And, sure, Black Sabbath and Ozzy are technically still around. But, for every other artist I listen to, I've either stopped or had my expectations lowered or they're no longer active/living.

    And I'm becoming keenly aware that that's not going to be forever. There isn't likely to be a moment where I trail a bunch of his shows or see one of those legendary live performances or even get to look forward to new material because he's either going to retire or, unfortunately, die.

    But even beyond that, – in death – it's not like I'm going to be able to follow what he's doing in the news or read interviews, etc. An individual, even if from afar, who was a mainstay of my life since childhood will be gone.

    11. 99% of my sense of humor can be pinned down to irony. I realized this when walking with my cousin one time; I was (and still somewhat am) so surprised I'm able to define it so cleanly.

    12. Part of the frustration of none of my cousins nor siblings nor myself being taught Haitian Creole is that I'm fairly certain I'm going to adopt children, on my own, in the future. And when it'll come to passing on heritage…there won't be much to do that with. My mother once got angry at me that I didn't post something on Facebook after the earthquake in Haiti. While I want to learn more about Haiti, – at this point in time – is it really all that surprising that I didn't? I don't speak the language, hardly know any others Haitians outside of my mother's side of the family, and have no real clue about the culture other than a collection of maybe five stories from my mother that all date back to before she emigrated (thus, thirty or so years ago). The little bit that I do have is a few Haitian recipes that I've grown up on. This means I can pass on a taste for Haitian cuisine (which I most certainly plan to do) but that's about it.

    I haven't tried learning a new language because I'm generally bad at learning them. Plus anything which doesn't captivate my attention is going to be a struggle due to my depression and I already have more than enough things I have to do that aren't interesting and, thus, become a struggle to do. Plus, given that the English language is my area of study, I find wordcraft to truly be an art form and a beautiful one at that. There's something very satisfying about a skillfully crafted sentence and, having been as anal about grammar as I have, I think it's an utter waste to use words carelessly or sloppily. While I would never deter anyone from learning another language (I actually tend to look at zem in a much higher light for accomplishing something I haven't been able to), I would feel terrible for foisting myself into another person's language only to use it poorly and sloppily and hold it back from forming itself into the more complex capabilities language has potential for and becoming a far tighter and elegant system just because of my own ineptitude.

    And yet I really would love to learn German or Creole. And it would at least give a stronger sense of heritage to my children. Recently, a feelings been creeping up on me that I may just bite the bullet; we'll see.

    13. Speaking of grammar…

    Technically speaking, I am not a prescriptivist when it comes to grammar. I believe language can change and does change. Indeed – as a system formed organically (and often haphazardly) from a grassroots sort of process –, I often think language should because it often manifests itself in ways that are nonsensical and poor. Basically, I think our language's rules should have reasoning behind them – and those which do not pass a test of sense should be discarded – but I do, at the end of the day, believe our language should have rules. I most certainly do not think that the fluidity of language gives us free range to run will-ze-n'ill-ze through language rules or rejoice at contradictory diversity within its body of rules. And, when at an impasse, I do tend to give precedence towards older rules and trends: this includes just about any usage that has prevalence in the language as well as any that may be created in the future (because, after all – at the end of the day –, I can't control how you use language). Generally, this tends to make me feel quite at home amongst prescriptivists – for a time.

    While I haven't read through the whole blog yet and cannot necessarily give it a stamp of approval (it does, after all, have the phrase "Prescriptivism Must Die!" emblazoned on it), the blog Motivated Grammar gets its name from the same belief as mine. From zir site:

    Grammar should not be articles of faith handed down to us from those on high who never split infinitives but always split hairs. Grammar should be rules that allow us to communicate more efficiently, clearly, and understandably. I’m not advocating the abolition of grammar,[explain to me why this comma exists] but rather its justification. I’m not quite sure what that will entail in the end, but I’m starting out by pointing out grammar rules that just don’t make sense, don’t work, or don’t have any justification. All I want is for our rules of grammar to be well-motivated.

    Questionable comma aside, the above is beautiful (I tend to react more strongly to certain explanations when said explanation puts into words perfectly, for me, some feeling I was having difficulty expressing or even expressing clearly).

    I should note that this doesn't apply to pronunciation, though the Midwestern accent is the most beautiful of English-speaking people (because I clearly have no bias; though I am also rather fond of the Irish accent and the Brooklyn accent, with Boston often piquing my interest). While I would probably prefer a standardization of pronunciation, that is literally impossible (plus there is some fun to that diversity). I was in argument with two friends of mine over whether Shakespeare would have to be standardized and I vehemently disagreed until we realized that I was under the impression we were solely talking about the text (silly English major). I'm inclined to believe that spelling (and possibly grammatical usage, though changes in that aren't likely to disrupt your Shakespeare too greatly) is likely to remain very standardized with the advent of the Internet Age and rising levels of education (and that's really all I'm concerned about maintaining). Of course, both were quick to point out (to my own persistent bafflement) that most high school students find they cannot understand the bard.

    Also, in regards to the plural of octopus: the term comes from the Greek, ὀκτάπους (oktapous, "eight-footed"). If we follow the Greek to the plural form, we would get octopodes. The term octopi comes from the mistaken assumption that the term comes from the Latin (it does not).

    I would probably accept the term octopuses, given that it follows standard English grammatical rules, but I'm not apt to like it.

    Also, down with the singular They.

    14. I really hate the term "bitch". As the above might give indication to, I'm not generally into abandoning any word. On the other hand, I generally despise reclamation of hate-terms.

    You might argue that "bitch" isn't only used as a term of hate but I might disagree. I said to my brother once that there's never a non-gendered usage with it. It either frames women into that old stereotype of just bringing down all the fun everyone else is having by voicing their opinions or it connotes weakness and being dominated (particularly disturbing when you tie it back to the notion of the word meaning "female"), often sharing equal usage in this case to describe males.

    I was technically wrong. When used as a noun, I think the term possibly escapes gendering (e.g. "Julie and the gang are up in this bitch!"). However, that, as far as I can see, is the only instance.

    But even beyond that, I don't like the term because – like the term slut – it tends to carry a connotation with it that tends to overshadow its definition.

    Okay, a woman who dates a guy just for his money and then movies on might not be a good person. Wouldn't it make sense to describe her as a bitch?

    Arguably. But let me counter. Take the movie Harold and Kumar Escape From Guantanamo Bay: there's a scene where Kumar is reminiscing with his friend and love interest, Vanessa. He points out that she put used tampons in a Professor's purse (we're going to ignore the fact that they're literally tying the image of a period to why this woman deserved what she got; I can make my point without it). Even before Vanessa responds, I knew what the answer would be, in that sort of way you know something by routine.

    Her response: Oh, come on. She was a bitch and you know it.

    The problem with this (and, being connotation, I can't really prove it but you may anecdotally perceive this) is that the justification really isn't just that she was mean. I think it's important to note that it's Vanessa saying this. Bitch often is wielded as this sort of silencer. No girl wants to be a bitch and, if you are one, you sort of get whatever's coming to you. Unasked, you deserve it.

    Vanessa's statement really reads as, "She was a bitch and, thus, she deserved it." And that's how the phrase is often put forward. She was a bitch. Umm, okay, on what criterion?

    But, unless I'm mistaken, it just feels like it's carrying more meaning that it ever bothers to say. It's not just meant as a justification – like I said, it's meant as a silencer. She was a bitch; end of conversation, case solved. And it operates much as the terms queer and faggot and fairy used to: terms no man wanted to dare be called – and so universally agreed upon in their detestation as adjectives that they just operate as silencers. My mother once got into a fight with a guy pulling out of his driveway (I think; I was young and can't remember that well). After bickering back in forth, she said just one word: faggot. That was the moment he stopped bothering to argue (though there was a brief wash of surprise over his face) and just went to write down her licence plate. And I don't mean to display that as my mother beating up on and bullying this man; he wasn't very nice and may've started the shouting match. But the point remains: whatever the actual definition of the term, it has a stronger one as a silencer meant to end discussion. "Just don't call me that." And, in that way, it makes the caller lazy (and I generally make a strong case for the defense of expletives). Rather than calling zem a noun whose definition is often vague in comparison to the sentence it's used in, we should actually describe the faults of the person and make a proper argument.

    Seriously, I really don't like that term.

    15. I (over-?)analyze anything and everything constantly. Even if I forget to mention that I, eventually, came to agree with an argument you made, I'm likely to think over what you said well after the discussion is through. I'm earnestly interested in reaching a conclusion that makes sense and is justifiable and, if you're capable of helping me reach that point, I very much would like your input. If I disagree or stick in opposition to a point, it's because I earnestly believe it (or am not willing to accept the other argument quite yet), not out of any malice or ill-will.

    As such, dismissing my point of view or not bothering to argue a point is one of the most insulting ordeals (yes, I know, I'm forming a list of them) you can put me through. I'll generally heckle after a point or a semantic because I'm earnestly interested in coming to an understanding of it. I'll never let go of being dismissed or being told I'm wrong (when I fully believe or aren't fully convinced that I'm not) because you're saying my reasoning is faulty. Rather than working with me towards understanding, you've pushed me aside (deeming me unsuitable of understanding) or've circumvented the argument process and, rather than pointing out why my reasoning is wrong, decided to deprive me of understanding. This is unacceptable and, above all, cruel. If you don't have much interest in the topic, simply mention so (I was also going to say if you didn't have the patience to explain it but that's stupid of me; impatience is unacceptable when it comes to other's needs).

    I don't think it's unreasonable to want to have an point of view explained and I cannot fathom how others can not perceive blinding insult at dismissal of a query.

    16. In spite of dating what some feel is a high amount of people (I really don't feel that it is), I am very rarely, truly pulled towards any one person, though I'm usually willing to try a relationship out if asked. I generally have high opinions of many and fall into crushes easily (I generally consider a crush any light infatuation that generally doesn't last very long because it isn't based on a large base). And, occasionally, there are those people who I start to seriously contemplate whether I should. But, in general, these aren't the things which cause me to consider, quite seriously, the risk of going for someone; there are some times when I'm simply blown away by a person, the type of infatuation where you want to devour the totality of your time with that person and immerse your senses in discovering further who they are because they are so stimulating of a personality. The difference between the last two of the three is that, in the former, I may consider the risk worth it: I may or may not ask zem out. In the latter, I know it's worth the risk because I am so thoroughly drawn to this person that every bit of me feels it.

    Obviously, that last one is not a common occurrence. And it's one that tends to be predicated on having a past with the person and knowing them fairly well (given that, most generally, it's personality and opinions/ideals that make me attracted to a person). I suppose this is a phenomenon which could have only occurred later in life as I got an idea of the type of person I'm attracted to. Still, very rarely does anyone truly come along that thoroughly blows me away (though I may partially blame that on how little we truly get to know any one person that we meet over the spans of our lifetime), though they (often surprisingly) do occur.

     

     

     

    Alright, time to tag some people for this: @IgorLollipop, @under_the_carpet, @mkmm87, @LyricalVent (we've been trying to re-figure-out/reclaim who we are for so long, maybe trying to write out just a fraction of it will help) 

  • Mother: Who wants ice cream? … Jonathan didn't answer, so he must not want any.
    Me: What? What did you ask?
    Mother: I asked if you wanted a girlfriend.
    Me: Hmm, well, I could eat both.
    Brother: Ha; that was cun'ing.

  • Mother: Jonathan, could you come here, please?
    Me: Yes'm?
    Mother: Did you know that your brother is having sex?
    Me: Uhh…what?
    Mother: Did…you know…that…your brother…is having sex?
    Me: So…you found the condom in his wallet*, huh?
    Mother: So you knew‽
    Me: Well, Mom, you really should have seen this coming. Umm…that pun was actually unintended.
    -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
    Brother: So, what were you and Mom talking about on the couch when my friends were over?
    Me: Oh, just discussing your sexcapades in college.
    *Both I and him burst out laughing*
    Brother:
    Well, if you don't go digging through people's stuff, you don't find out things you don't want to know.

    *As discussed here, you should never put condoms in a wallet. This chafes them and wears them out.

  • I'd mentioned, once before, here that this is one of my all-time favorite movies though my brother found it far less impressive than I do. I was informed that apparently the link I had left here then to watch it might contain viruses. Here it is on YouTube, in the event anyone wants to see it. Really, it's quite a feel-good film (which, normally, I tend to hate) and really sweet.

    note: there is one scene where one of the main characters starts to attempt suicide; to do so, she makes a cut on her wrist with a razor. I don't know if that might be found to be triggering so I'm mentioning it just in case

  • It's long but all three parts relate so I'll keep them as one post.

    ------------------------------------------------------------------

    *phone rings*
    Mother: Jonathan?
    Me: Yes?
    Mother: It's 3 in the morning.
    Me: Yes.
    Mother: Why aren't you home yet? It's way too late for you to be out.
    Me: Why?
    Mother: Because it's 3 o'clock in the morning.

    Nothing gets by her, let me tell you. The next morning:

    Father: It's completely unacceptable that you would stay out that late. [I am still, at this point, wondering why]
    Mother: You're not a teenager anymore [as if I was allowed to stay out as a teenager under their arbitrary rules]; you have to wake up the next morning.
    Me: …today's a Sunday [and I already had attended Sunday Vigil yesterday].
    Mother: And? [for the record, I woke up at 2 today, vacuumed the kitchen and family room and tidied up my room in the span of 2 to 3 hours; I'm now on my computer. If only I had waken up earlier to get it all done!]
    Father:
    Your clothes are on the ground; they should have been put away when you got back home [I was under the impression that a world crisis had occurred, based on their demeanor, because of how terribly late I got home last night; in my mind, getting to bed as soon as possibly was the life-saving choice to make. However, as per usual, if things aren't done in the exact order my father expects, it's apparently a lack of ambition. Never-mind that there's absolutely no difference between putting them away when I wake up or when I get home other than when I end up putting them away].
    Mother: Also, you used all of my gas [I used about an eighth of a tank]. You didn't put any gas into my car afterwards, did you?
    Me: No, because I don't have any money. I told you where I was going; you've been there a multitude of times; you know how much gas that takes. If that bothered you, you should have told me no and I wouldn't have gone.

    The one moment of sense in this bizarre melodrama is when my mother notes that the nice thing to do would have been calling to say that I wasn't going to be home later that night. Fair; I'd be willing to oblige, though still not necessary. To use her example of why this was oh so pertinent (were I to get into some sort of accident), the police would have called their house. If you're not getting a call, I'm fine. Now stop trying to mask the fact that you can't control every aspect of my life (I can't stop myself from laughing every time my mother tells me I'm not allowed to drink, as if the first thing I've ever run to to make a decision has ever been based around whether she'd "allow" me or not).

    ------------------------------------------------------------------

    Father: Do you want another grilled cheese?
    Me: Sure, if you're making them.
    Father: What? No, it's a yes or no question: yes or no? I'm making more only if you want more.
    Me: *irritable* Yes, if you're making more.

    I have a habit of asking what seems like really naïve questions; even if something seems really obvious, I'll often ask again or specifically repeat, audibly, back to the instructor the steps of the (sort of obvious) task, just to be sure I have it right. In correspondence with instances like these (though not only entailed to), I often say, "I assume nothing." The larger meaning is owning up to the danger of assumption (and, in turn, the inherent ignorance we often don't expect to find in ourselves, even on accident). It's also a gracious way not to offend people, in my mind; I refuse to even be suspicious of them.

    The root of this habit (I have little doubt) stems from my father. Never one to be good at communicating, he often would assume that you'd know certain things; combined with his low patience, you were never really quite certain what to do right to avoid being yelled at.

    So I got into the habit of making certain of everything: I assumed nothing and asked any question I could think of to be certain I understood what he wanted. While his point seems obvious, I'm certain there've been times in the past where he's said, to some request or question from me or my siblings regarding any food, "Well, I'm done cooking, so that's not going to happen."

    Under that understanding, my statement seems perfectly reasonable. Removed from that understanding, my statement is still not unreasonable; redundant, perhaps, but not difficult to figure out (humor my idiosyncrasies).

    However, this – apparently – is too much for my father to figure out. My mother, like myself, often includes extra information; I'd argue that both my parents and I all prefer explaining things in the form of stories (don't give us the general idea, give us examples; we'll figure it out from there) but my mother and I use this to include other information. Example? My father is wondering how much it will cost to get my sister's dog's hair cut. My mother tells him that the old hair cutter had cost 40 dollars and one of our neighbors, who had recommended the new hair cutter, said it should cost the same amount.

    My father pauses before going, "Oh, so $40; why didn't you just say that?"

    My first reaction is that you get the answer either way. That aside, you now know a possible average amount for such a job. You know who gave you the new hair cutter should you want to make small talk with the neighbors (seeing as my dad seems incapable of ever shutting up, I would think he'd value that information).

    I guess, likewise, my response was too confusing for his brain to parse.

    ------------------------------------------------------------------

    The doorbell is ringing; my sister's crazy dog, like always, thinks the house is under attack and is barking his head off. My father tells him to move away from the door (I forget if he made hand motions, seeing as the dog wouldn't understand the command "Move away from the door"; I don't think he tried very hard, if he did). The dog, not understanding and being far more involved in the more interesting events occurring just outside the door, keeps barking at the door. My father, with one more bark of "Move!", pushes the dog across the tile floor out of the way; he slides smack into the wall about a yard away. I pick him up and carry him to another room to avoid him running to the door yet again (he's a persistent one). As I head back to the front door, I hear my father mutter, "I hate that dog; he never listens."

    My father, for a while (I think he's become less vocal about it but no less believing), perceives me to be very selfish and self-concerned in some areas. A lot of this, I would argue, is my firm belief that the best means of dealing with people is allowing individuals to make choices regarding themselves with no restraint so long as their choices do not harm anyone else.

    Unable to perceive this, (like the individual who finds those who call for tolerance to be hypocritical because those people oppose zir attempts to ban gay marriage for everyone) he was often puzzled and irritated by my habit, when I was younger, to call him and my mother out on making comments about other people. Or, for another example, getting angry at them telling me to eat healthier.

    In his mind, I was pushing my world view on him; this is hardly the case. Rather, I had no qualms about him trying to be healthy or even making disparaging comments about his own weight or loss of hair: perfectly fine. It was his utter inability to restrict these thoughts to himself that bothered me.

    So, I'm the selfish one. Okay. But, I would make the argument that, even beyond the obvious generosity of autonomy, this system goes even further in opposition to selfishness. You see (to use the theme I've touched a bit on here already), this system is once again in acknowledgement of our ignorance.

    I was part of a panel back in college one time that was touching on religion. I remember it was part of the Encountering Religion series, though I can't remember the particular focus this time around. Someone in the crowd asked, "In dealing with religion, we're seeking Truth and answers. There can only be one answer so don't you owe it to help others see the Answer?" Ahh, the old Evangelist approach.

    I wish I had responded but I didn't. In any case, the reason why going out and killing all the heretics and infidels is wrong (other than the fact that most religions include something about not killing and it's really just common sense) is that you can't be so certain that you are correct. I've said before, any person who wants to stand and tell me that there is, without a doubt, absolutely no chance there is no god(s) or absolutely no chance there is a god(s) has lost all intellectual merit in my eyes.

    To move out of that supernatural lens, a simple reading of this xanga will make evident that my thoughts and beliefs have most certainly changed over the years. Myself in middle school would have been horrified that I'd become so accepting of gay rights (let alone help further the cause in any range of organizations).

    So we allow the individual as much autonomy as possible because, at the end of the day, the person who will know what's best for you the most amount of times is you. Sure, there will be times where someone knows what's best for you or what's right and you don't know. But in my system, you have the option of asking for and refusing help. In my father's, you don't have a choice. Further, everyone is responsible for themselves under this rule. Under the other, we must seek a system of justice, etc. when someone pressures you because they figured they knew better and then screw things up. If you screw things up, it's just you who pays for it.

    So does that make my father's system selfish?

    In terms of results, yes but that's simplifying it. It's not that he wants control, per se. It's that, in his mind, he's figured things out and (rather than verifying such findings) must put them into action.

    A good example of this is actually something that happened with my brother. We were stopping by the house before heading to, I think, a swim meet for my sister. I went in and grabbed myself some chips. As I headed back, my brother asks (expectantly), "Did you get me any?"

    The answer is no.

    And here is why: in an individualous system, I don't have to get you chips. Would it be nice if I did? Certainly. Had I thought of it or my brother had asked before I went in, I would have happily done so. But, as I said, autonomy in self until the point of harming someone else. My brother won't die from not getting chips; he has no right to expecting anything of the sort from me. Indeed, no one owes you anything (so long as not giving it to you would not harm or restrict you); this, in turn, makes charitable acts all the more charitable. Under my father's system, you are owed those kind works.

    But that sounds harsh, doesn't it? It's a little too abstract. Here's why he can't expect anything from me. Like I said, the thought hadn't crossed my mind. Further, I could have been in a hurry. Or maybe I, accidentally, remembered him not liking the chips.

    For him (and my father), remembering to get someone something is a nice gesture. Thus, everyone must be expected to do it. Much like the illustration I gave 7 paragraphs ago, his system demands I must get him chips. Mine offers the choice. It also has this nice, built-in, fail-safe that allows for there to be a vast variety of reasons (that my brother may be unaware of) as to why I may not have gotten him the chips. In this instance, I simply forgot.

    Further, I find more consistency in mine. I have a habit of waving to every person in our neighborhood; I like to be friendly and I like people so it makes sense to me. One time, after waving, my brother asks why. I give the same explanation. He, somewhat grouchily, responds (paraphrased), "I'm not going to wave just because someone expects that of me." Now, this is confusing to me; no one expects you to wave. He makes it seem like some irritating obligation. In his understanding of what you should and should not do, there's no reason for him to wave; in mine, that's the nice thing to do (indeed, I think my father would chastise him and say he ought to wave, were he a few years younger, because my father appreciates friendliness as a virtue). My system offers him the choice not to. There could be a vast variety of reasons why he might not (I certainly don't know it). But he doesn't owe anyone a wave.

    This is the core reason my father expects obedience. In his mind, he's already figured it all out (I imagine the mountain of times I've shown him wrong or convinced him otherwise are just minor exceptions). So listen and do it his way already.

    The dog wasn't hurt; indeed, we, as humans, did a damn good job of breeding those things because it really is just astonishing how forgiving and friendly their natures are. No, but it looked like it hurt. I dunno; if I had done something like that, I'd've immediately picked him up to let him know if was a mistake (forget the door for that moment). It was the way that it didn't even matter to my father that he'd basically pushed the dog into a wall (because God forbid something not obey his command) with thoroughly no concern for his well-being afterwards.

     

    **note: I should take the moment to note that I'm not perfect. I make mistakes and I can't remember if I always own up to them. I know, when I start feeling more comfortable with my surroundings, I'll say things in my usual disparaging humor and forget to make certain people understand I'm not even remotely serious. I'd like to think that I'm open enough about my concern for others and my willingness to admit when I'm wrong or make mistakes (which, just as there may be evidence for the opposite, there certainly is evidence for). At least I hope.

  • It astounds me that being silent and hardly responding somehow translates to "I need to talk to you more. If I just keep at it long enough, you'll open up! Like a piñata," for my dad.

    I'm sick of being assumed that I'm wrong or that I don't know what I'm doing. When I'm successful, this shouldn't be surprising to you.

    I also don't appreciate my opinions about things being pushed aside or being considered invalid. Those are rejections of me, in turn labeling me invalid. Assume I actually know what I'm talking about, or, at the very least, grant me the respect to acknowledge my differing.

     

    My brother and I were discussing who was the favorite child for each parent today (despite constant repudiations from our mother). We both mutually agreed that Nathan was her favorite, Natasha second, I last, without question. When it came to my father, we both agreed Natasha was first. Both of us thought we were the least favorite child.

    I have no doubt that they love all three of us equally. But it's telling that both of us felt so utterly rejected by his actions as to think we were the least liked. Perhaps it's more we're all equally loved, he just respects Natasha more (though I still kind of want to contend that I'm the least respected: he finds Nathan somewhat selfish and hot-headed, I think (which is humorously ironic given his own anger), but he finds me incompetent. I may be the oldest, but I couldn't do anything on my own (four years of college away from them didn't really have anything trying for me; after all, I can't wake up in the morning for anything, so I must've had someone else help me; and one instance of oversleeping in four years proves the precedence)).

     

    I've always insisted that, in most cases, what was intended is more important than the result. However, my parents provide ample example, that the result can outweigh the intention. I just don't know how to justify a good deal of the actions my father partakes in. They so frequently go against any reasonable logical assessment of how to treat fellow humans, that I'd be tempted to guess he were mentally impaired. However, if he were mentally impaired, he'd have an excuse and reason. He's not, which makes him unjustifiable.