Homophobia Hurts

I didn't come up with this list, but it really is powerful.



I am the foster child who wakes up with nightmares of being taken away from the two fathers who are the only loving family I have ever had. I wish they could adopt me.

I am the girl kicked out of her home because I confided in my mother that I am a lesbian.

I am the prostitute working the streets because nobody will hire a transsexual woman.

I am the sister who holds her gay brother tight through the painful, tear-filled nights.

We are the parents who buried our daughter long before her time.

I am the man who died alone in the hospital because they would not let my partner of twenty-seven years into the room.

I am one of the lucky ones, I guess. I survived the attack that left me in a coma for three weeks, and in another year I will probably be able to walk again.

I am not one of the lucky ones. I killed myself just weeks before graduating high school. It was simply too much to bear.

We are the couple who had the realtor hang up on us when she found out we wanted to rent a one-bedroom for two men.

I am the person who never knows which bathroom I should use if I want to avoid getting the management called on me.

I am the mother who is not allowed to even visit the children I bore, nursed, and raised. The court says I am an unfit mother because I now live with another woman.

I am the domestic-violence survivor who found the support system grow suddenly cold and distant when they found out my abusive partner is also a woman.

I am the domestic-violence survivor who has no support system to turn to because I am male.

I am the father who has never hugged his son because I grew up afraid to show affection to other men.

I am the man who stopped attending church, not because I don't believe, but because they closed their doors to my kind.

I am the person who has to hide what this world needs most, love.

I am the person who is afraid of telling his loving Christian parents he loves another male.

I am the home-economics teacher who always wanted to teach gym until someone told me that only lesbians do that.

I am the man who died when the paramedics stopped treating me as soon as they realized I was transsexual.

I am the person who feels guilty because I think I could be a much better person if I did not have to always deal with society hating me.

Ramblings: Choreography (Paralyzer), ADD Song Choosing, Languages (too much on this topic), Free Cookies, and an excessively long title... :)

Don't read this. It's boring and rambling and off-topic and rambling and random and rambling... oh look, a butterfly!

So, anyway... I just kind of -- well, I just feel like ranting. (It's hard to make myself say "kind of" after CTY. *grins*). So... I'm listening to "Paralyzer" by Finger Eleven. Oh my Stress Cow -- the music video. *dies* The dancing is... it's not technically brilliant or anything, but it's weird and unique and flows and gah. If I could choreograph like that... *swoons*. I wish I could make something that just fits the music like that. (Or dance that well... I apparently have really good musicality, but I know that my body remains stubborn and refuses to do the steps quick enough). Regardless...

I have no idea where this is going. I don't honestly know *why* I'm writing it or posting it here... I just want to. And really... who's actually going to read this? It's like a diary but actually open to whomever wants to read it and I don't have to deal with actually writing it, which is good since my hand likes a break after the week and my handwriting gets to be *atrocious* if I don't have time/effort/caring to make it look nice.

This song irritates me right now (meh, I don't feel beautiful right now, lol)... this one too (I'm too tired to listen to reggaeton)... there we go. Lion King's Lioness Hunt. :)

I want to learn Zulu. Then I'd understand Ladysmith Black Mambazo's song lyrics (*goes to change song on iTunes). Well, I think it's in Zulu... but I don't know. I want to learn that language.

I did my typical fantasizing of the future recently. We were talking about language development in Psychology. It's interesting how kids can pick up incredibly complex languages up until the age of 6 then are forced to learn it in high school, ten years after their capability has peaked and long since drastically declined. *shrugs* So I'm going to marry someone who knows a lot of languages. That, and an orphan. *nods* We can speak multiple languages and our kids will be super languagy (the program is adamantly trying to tell me that "languagy" isn't a word...) and everything. (Random side note: she complains about being not as smart, and everything... but honestly? She is. And she grew up with other languages and knows five of them. Only four fluently, but still. She's *supposed* to be fluent in the fifth (so am I, but that's not the point), so five. I would *kill* for that and she has no idea. Anyone... my fantasy. (Completely likely... *nods* *winks*) (side note to my side note: I'm using a ridiculous number of actions in asterisks (I can't think of a word like "emoticon" or anything for them), but there you go, imaginary self. Have fun!) I have english, and, for argument's sake, spanish and (for the hell of it), German. (Why I only capitalized one, I have no idea). Three. Add Zulu (or whatever that African language is) and you have four. Throw in french because pronunciation is a bitch, but it's beautiful. Five. God... I had seven in class, and I don't think French was added. Oh... Italian, because she (other unnamed female, not the one previously mentioned) said I should and she's generally amazing (<3), so... yeah. Italian. Six. (I'll say French, even though I tend to destroy it with my pronunciation... though sometimes I'll speak Spanish with such a horrifically gringo accent that it might as well be spanglish). Um... I'd say Japanese or Chinese but I thought I'd die in sixth grade. Ditto for Russian or Japanese. No offense, but I think Latin's essentially useless (sorry). ARGH. This is annoying me more than it should.

*shakes head* Okay... that mini-rant's over. I'm tired, but I should... well... okay. I have stuff to do, and I need to sleep. I know that whenever I do go to sleep, it'll be afternoon when I get up so then I'll be stressed and worried about having no time and everything. But I'm not doing anything productive anyway.

*shrugs* So... to end this pointless rant... if anyone read this, you have my eternal love and gratitude. That's not such a great reward though. If you make it to the end and didn't fall asleep or die along the way, let me know. I'll make you (real-life) cookies. I promise. (And I know that I promised that to someone along the way for something else and it never *really* happened, but I swear this time.) Not that it really matters because I think only a few people have ever read this and only because they first stumbled on it while looking at my notes, but... eh. I can't bring myself to care. ;)

Edit: I wanted to add this, but then it was posted and I don't want to add the lyrics on a new post because then there would be no chance of anyone ever reading this. Ich liebe "Denglish". (by the Wise Guys). So... lyrics. Because I can and because... I can. :) (Why did my fingers keep trying to type "can't"? *scratches head*). Not from me, because I'm not nearly that good (yet) in German.

Oh Herr, bitte gib mir meine Sprache zurück,
ich sehne mich nach Frieden und nem kleinen Stückchen Glück.
Lass uns noch ein Wort verstehn in dieser schweren Zeit,
öffne unsre Herzen mach die Hirne weit.

Ich bin zum Bahnhof gerannt und war a little bit too late:
Auf meiner neuen Swatch wars schon kurz vor after eight.
Ich suchte die Toilette, doch ich fand nun ein „McClean“,
ich brauchte noch Connection und ein Ticket nach Berlin.

Draußen saßen Kids und hatten Fun mit einem Joint.
Ich suchte eien Auskunft, doch es gab nur’n Service Point.
Mein Zug war leider abgefahr’n – das Traveln konnt ich knicken.
Da wollt ich Hähnchen essen, doch man gab mir nur McChicken.

Oh Herr, bitte gib mir meine Sprache zurück,
ich sehne mich nach Frieden und nem kleinen Stückchen Glück.
Lass uns noch ein Wort verstehn in dieser schweren Zeit,
öffne unsre Herzen mach die Hirne weit.

Du versuchst, mich upzudaten, doch mein Feedback turnt dich ab.
Du sagst, dass ich ein Wellness-Weekend dringend nötig hab.
Du sagst, ich käm mit Good Vibrations wieder in den Flow.
Du sagst, ich brauche Energy. Und ich denk: „Das sagst du so.“

Statt Nachrichten bekomme ich den Infotainment-Flash.
Ich sehne mich nach Bargeld, doch man gibt mir nicht mal Cash
Ich fühl mich beim Communicating unsicher wie nie –
da nützt mir auch kein Bodyguard. Ich brauch Security!

Oh Lord, bitte gib mir meine Language zurück,
ich sehne mich nach Peace und nem kleinen Stückchen Glück.
Lass uns noch ein Wort verstehn in dieser schweren Zeit,
öffne unsre Herzen, mach die Hirne weit.

Ich will, dass beim Coffee.Shop „Kaffeehaus“ oben draufsteht,
oder dass beim Auto-Crash die „Lufttasche“ aufgeht,
und schön wär’s, wenn wir Bodybuilder „Muskel-Mäster“ nennen
und wenn nur noch „Nordisch Geher“ durch die Landschaft rennen.

Oh Lord, please help, denn meine Language macht mir Stress,
ich sehne mich nach Peace und a bit of Happiness.
Hilf uns, dass wir understand in dieser schweren Zeit,
open unsre Hearts und make die Hirne weit.

Oh Lord, please gib mir meine Language back,
ich krieg hier bald die crisis, man, it has doch keinen Zweck.
Let us noch a word verstehn, it goes me on the Geist,
und gib, dass „Microsoft“ bald wieder „Kleinweich“ heißt.

Ja, dass es „Kleinweich“ heißt…

Last edit: I call you a jerk, but I still love you (even though you can be a jerk). <3

Yes, We Can

I can't vote in this election, unfortunately. I will say that if I could, I wouldn't vote for any of the republicans. Not because I am a "Democrat", but because I don't agree with the views of any of them. (They, quite frankly, scare me a bit). I'm not necessarily in support of Barack Obama. I'm not necessarily against him.



Regardless of whom I support or whom you support, it can't be denied that this is a powerful video created by will.i.am:

It was a creed written into the founding documents that declared the destiny of a nation.

Yes we can.

It was whispered by slaves and abolitionists as they blazed a trail toward freedom.

Yes we can.

It was sung by immigrants as they struck out from distant shores and pioneers who pushed westward against an unforgiving wilderness.

Yes we can.

It was the call of workers who organized; women who reached for the ballots; a President who chose the moon as our new frontier; and a King who took us to the mountaintop and pointed the way to the Promised Land.

Yes we can to justice and equality.

Yes we can to opportunity and prosperity.

Yes we can heal this nation.

Yes we can repair this world.

Yes we can.

We know the battle ahead will be long, but always remember that no matter what obstacles stand in our way, nothing can stand in the way of the power of millions of voices calling for change.

We have been told we cannot do this by a chorus of cynics...they will only grow louder and more dissonant ........... We've been asked to pause for a reality check. We've been warned against offering the people of this nation false hope.

But in the unlikely story that is America, there has never been anything false about hope.

Now the hopes of the little girl who goes to a crumbling school in Dillon are the same as the dreams of the boy who learns on the streets of LA; we will remember that there is something happening in America; that we are not as divided as our politics suggests; that we are one people; we are one nation; and together, we will begin the next great chapter in the American story with three words that will ring from coast to coast; from sea to shining sea --

Yes. We. Can.

Obama's Website