Wednesday, September 26, 2012

No Regrets

I was talking to a friend yesterday about not wanting to let go of the things that make you who you are. I don't know that you can forget the things that shaped you. Sure, you can forget the details of the moments of the tings that were part of the experiences that created the person you are today, but, overall it got you somewhere and that isn't changing. I operate under a strong "no regrets" policy, right up there with the "anything once" policy. No regrets doesn't mean I don't know that I've made mistakes (I've made plenty), but it means that I like where I am (very, very much, at the moment). In an entirely butterfly effect-y kind of way, I couldn't be exactly where I am if everything that happened hadn't happened exactly as it did. In and interview with Lady Gaga, she said that "Judas" was founded on this exact idea. "I'm in love with Judas." I'm in love with the mistakes because they got me where I am. She said you have to love that Judas betrayed Jesus because, without that, he couldn't have become a savior. Yes, sometimes things suck; yes, sometimes we'd prefer not to remember them; but yes, they change us. "Who can say if I've been changed for the better, but, because I knew you, I have been changed fr good."

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

More Falling

It strikes me now that I have written two posts in my time writing titled "The Fall." The first referring to a fall from grace, and the second to falling in love (and the second is titled that largely because that is the favorite movie of the person I'm currently in love with). It was just odd to me how juxtaposed those two thoughts were, and that subconsciously I reference them in the same way.  

"Available" Gender

My professor  in History of the LGBT Movement mentioned in passing last week that it was unfortunate that everyone in our society has to chose from the two "available" genders: male and female. I definitively believe that there are not just two genders, although I also dislike the theorists that assert other numbers as well. As far as I'm concerned gender is infinite because it is endlessly self-defined. Gender is, for me, something I have never had to question; woman was always a quite comfortable title. However, I can definitely identify both masculine and feminine traits in myself if I want to. The business of any one person or group of people or institution telling people what their gender can be, or, what genders are "available" is ludicrous. Does this mean that, depending on the institution you are working under your gender could feasibly change (outside of the realm of gender being fluid, as in, you could feel exactly the same and yet be labeled something different depending on where you are)? Whatever your personal feelings about your won gender, who the hell does it hurt to let everyone identify in a way that makes them comfortable? If it isn't available, create it!

Monday, September 17, 2012

The Fall

Without much thought, I used to believe that the best times you one was in love, he or she would be able to identify an exact moment when they "fell" in love. A less romantic story would tell of falling in love over some period of time for whatever reason. I have now abandoned the idea that it is even possible to fall in love in a moment, but there are certainly moments along the way. My new timeline is as follows:
     First: There is a moment that you never realize at the time, and that, only looking back after having fallen in love do you come to see. You also never notice it unless you do go on to fall in love, so we probably have these moments with plenty of people who never get close to a relationship with us. This is the gateway moment, the moment that connects you in some way deeply enough to open the door to falling in love. This time it was a fluke, a moment of vulnerability I should never have seen, but I did.
     Second: This door is opened and is followed by an unconscious wander down a fairly circuitous route. The whole point is you don't know it's happening, but things are quietly changing. The second you consciously realize it, you've hit stage three.
     Third: This is when you know in your own mind that you are in love (and, as I have mentioned in previous posts, I believe in love is a mutual state, so there is some level of understanding at this point that the other party feels similarly, sometimes communicated, but usually just mystically known). I think a lot of people spend a long time on this step, I, however, am not one of them.
     Fourth: Perhaps the most intimidating part of the process, telling to other person. It is a pretty self-explanatory step, you do it or you don't. I don't think much of trying to wait for a right moment. I think a lot of people do this because they don't think they are sure of their feelings, but love has always (and I hope always will be for me) very concrete. I am in love with a person or I am not; it isn't something you question, it's just something you intrinsically know. I certainly have been at junctures where I was in love with someone and didn't want to be, but that is an entirely different issue.
So here, now, I know that gateway moment for me, that let me be open to falling in love with this person, and I know when I told them. I forget, however, the moment I knew I was in love and that makes me sad, but perhaps I'll remember. 

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Eagle Rants

So AU's newspaper has a section called Eagle Rants which is pretty much people snapping anonymously at each other through the media and desperate singles begging for hook-ups, but occasionally I come across some true genius in a rant. Three days ago "The right man in the wrong place can make all the difference." At first I read it in a gender violence context, and considered men's amazing power to check each other. It called back memories of an, admittedly very odd, conversation with some of my male friends list year to the tune of "What would you do if you knew/caught your roommate raping someone?" But if I just sit back and get over the andocentrism for a moment, the statement holds very true. The right person in the wrong place can make all the difference. But it truly requires that we not be afraid to be that right person; we have to remember to speak up (I will also immediately own up to a proclivity to speak up at all the wrong times and few of the important ones). I'm not saying I don't know that this is an overdone point, but really, people can't get caught up in the bystander effect. Look at every wrong time as opportunity to be the right person.

Monday, September 10, 2012


I was talking with an acquaintance (friend?) a few days ago about our religious upbringings and I mentioned that I have often grappled with the notion that my church is inclusive. He agreed and aptly but simply said essentially "Implicit to inclusiveness is the exclusion of those who are exclusive." How perfect. My "open" church wouldn't be remotely open to a homophobe or racist or sexist, but then aren't we not really open? I'm not saying those are the kind of people I want to hang out with, they aren't, it's just the semantics that bother me, but it's still a bother. Then two nights ago I was watching Daily Show coverage of the DNC and they were talking about the exact same thing (basically that even though the democrats espouse rampant inclusivity, they wouldn't let a conservative within 10 miles of their values). At least I'm not the only one bothered by it.

Friday, September 7, 2012


I have an unreasonable love for quotations (and yes, they are quotations, quote is the verb, not a noun). As in, I write down funny quotations from my friends, family, and professors; keep a running notebook of famous quotations; and have more posters, postcards, and other tidbits scattered on my walls than any self-respecting 18-year-old should. I characterize this as an unreasonable love for two reasons. The first is obvious, I clearly like these cultural artifacts more than many and put much greater effort into pursuing them than they are probably worth. The second, however, is more complex, and, frankly, more depressing. What the hell to quotations do for us? I mean, sure, in the moment I'm inspired, perhaps even led to a new perspective, but then they sit, written in multi-colored pen in a spiral notebook with the Celtic tree of life on the cover in my desk drawer. We (humans) have all of these lovely ideas that never become anything. Perhaps that's a little too pessimistic, but as far as I'm concerned, it's just sad.

Thursday, September 6, 2012


Perhaps this is imprudent, or a little to "meta" for some's liking, but I'm writing this blog about starting to blog. I have an opportunity to blog for a school publication that I have been writing long-form articles for for the past year. Last night, I was talking to our Blog Editor about how I need to come up with a focused topic or "beat" to cover serially, and she essentially told me I have a strong enough writing voice that she doesn't need me to have a topic. Apparently, I can blog about anything I want, pretty much whenever I want, and have me the interesting thing that connects these all together? Huh. I'm pleased, don't get me wrong, but that's a lot of pressure to be consistent and interesting. Hopefully, writing here has been good practice. I also don't want to take away content from this outlet because I'm writing for another one, and there are ethical implications to posting in more than one place. It's sort of like, well, the real world. Here we go.

Saturday, September 1, 2012

Missing Home?

I've been at school about a month now since I went back early for job training before the semester started, so I came back home for the weekend to escape/relax/decompress. Last year, I came every month-ish for a weekend so it isn't like this is particularly early (although, for everyone else it's the first real weekend back), but I mysteriously miss AU more in these 24 hours than I ever have before. Even all summer I didn't miss it terribly, occasionally I wanted to talk to one of my friends, so I did, and sometimes I wanted to see them, but I always knew I'd be going back soon and it didn't really bother me. One of my good friends got really attached to school really quickly last year, and I always thought she was kind of crazy (well, admittedly, I still do, but I understand a little more). This is the first time I've ever thought about school and unconsciously used the noun "home" in my mind. Before, I always consciously refused to use the term home for school. Home is Frederick, in the house I grew up in with my parents, where my family gathers for holidays and my friends sleep over. Home is not, can't ever, be anything else. Except that now it seems to be. I have several theories on this. The first is that since it is the first weekend back, it is the first time all of my friends get to hang out, and I am not there. So, one reason is just that I feel left out. The second is that, the way my schedule worked out, I have a five-day weekend. Somehow five days seems a whole hell of a lot longer than two. The third, and probably most realistic, is that now I am attached, not only to friends, who I can still talk to and joke with and hear stories from, but to a significant other, and kisses are something only communicable in person. Whatever the reason, I'm feeling a little lonely in Frederick, although, I'm also not used to weekends where I come home and spend a day home alone since I'm used to getting home Friday evening, not Thursday.