Saturday, December 23, 2006
Flava of the old school
I hated high school.
So much.
High school in a rural community is the last place where you want to be a gay teen in Canada. I am sure being a gay teen in a rural community in the deep south is way worse, especially if you are black - but I was not so I can not really comment. I am just assuming that it would suck big time.
High school is not a popularity contest, it is a war. And everyone involved in the battle is willing to do almost anything to one up someone else. That is what makes it such a horrible experience for all. I have run into those from high school who had it all since we left and they were just as unhappy as I was, however, I did not go out of my way to make them more unhappy. I couldn't, I was almost at the bottom of the food chain.
The high school food chain in my school was best viewed at lunch time in the cafeteria. The cool kids sat at the front near the stage. These were the popular kids, the jocks, the cool kids, the kids with money, and the attractive. Next were the "normies" these were the kids who were okay, there was nothing all that esoeteric about them, but also nothing freakish that could be made fun of. They made up the majority. After the normies were the skids, the smokers, the sluts, whatever derogatory comment you wanted to give them. They were the ones who smoked, did drugs, had sex, and were wild and crazy. Then there were the weirdos, the freaks, and the intellectuals. There were about six of us we all banded together. Following us were the geeks, the nerds, the incredibly smart but seriously lacking in social skills they also banded together. Then there were the loners. They were the individuals who just kind of hung out and around and had no friends and no one liked them or really knew them. We only had a couple and I really know nothing about them.
In the terms of this social hierarchy I stuck out like a sore thumb. I was a lot smarter than I realized and I was a lot crazier then I knew. I dressed very creativley (ugh is what I think when I look back and remember some of the crazy outfits I chose), I had weird wittisisms and I was just misunderstood. But I also kind of liked it. I was a boundary pusher, I was like the gay madonna of my high school. I was also fat. Being gay and fat - is never a good combo, straight people don't like you, gay people don't like you, you don't like you.
Looking back on high school I have very mixed emotions. I grew up too fast there, I had to, I had too many adult situations to deal with that I could not be my age. I hated so many people who I am not sure I forgive, but I had some good friends that I regret losing contact with. Although the lied when they said you can't go home, (you can unless your parents are dead or they moved) but you can never go back to that element of emotions that made home feel like a quaint little hell hole.
So much.
High school in a rural community is the last place where you want to be a gay teen in Canada. I am sure being a gay teen in a rural community in the deep south is way worse, especially if you are black - but I was not so I can not really comment. I am just assuming that it would suck big time.
High school is not a popularity contest, it is a war. And everyone involved in the battle is willing to do almost anything to one up someone else. That is what makes it such a horrible experience for all. I have run into those from high school who had it all since we left and they were just as unhappy as I was, however, I did not go out of my way to make them more unhappy. I couldn't, I was almost at the bottom of the food chain.
The high school food chain in my school was best viewed at lunch time in the cafeteria. The cool kids sat at the front near the stage. These were the popular kids, the jocks, the cool kids, the kids with money, and the attractive. Next were the "normies" these were the kids who were okay, there was nothing all that esoeteric about them, but also nothing freakish that could be made fun of. They made up the majority. After the normies were the skids, the smokers, the sluts, whatever derogatory comment you wanted to give them. They were the ones who smoked, did drugs, had sex, and were wild and crazy. Then there were the weirdos, the freaks, and the intellectuals. There were about six of us we all banded together. Following us were the geeks, the nerds, the incredibly smart but seriously lacking in social skills they also banded together. Then there were the loners. They were the individuals who just kind of hung out and around and had no friends and no one liked them or really knew them. We only had a couple and I really know nothing about them.
In the terms of this social hierarchy I stuck out like a sore thumb. I was a lot smarter than I realized and I was a lot crazier then I knew. I dressed very creativley (ugh is what I think when I look back and remember some of the crazy outfits I chose), I had weird wittisisms and I was just misunderstood. But I also kind of liked it. I was a boundary pusher, I was like the gay madonna of my high school. I was also fat. Being gay and fat - is never a good combo, straight people don't like you, gay people don't like you, you don't like you.
Looking back on high school I have very mixed emotions. I grew up too fast there, I had to, I had too many adult situations to deal with that I could not be my age. I hated so many people who I am not sure I forgive, but I had some good friends that I regret losing contact with. Although the lied when they said you can't go home, (you can unless your parents are dead or they moved) but you can never go back to that element of emotions that made home feel like a quaint little hell hole.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Hey Everyone It's Madison Time - A big strong line
It has occurred to me that online dating is a lot like hula hoop teams.
It is an activity that could bring you closer together, but in its format it spacially keeps you apart.
And to be frank I am not sure how I feel about it.
I have recently began the forray into dating again and I have chosen the online status as I prefer it to actually having to go out and try to talk to people.
I am not fond of bars in general, and despise gay bars. All those attractive men who know it and run around in their tight clothes and make attempts to pick up the attractive other men who behave just like them. It maks me feel like I am in high school. (okay I am generalising, the leather bars are not like that but those leather guys kind of scare me and you know what they say "butch in the streets, femme in the sheets).
So I have met someone online who it seems things click with.
We have been chatting for three weeks and things have been progressing well. Last night we talked on the phone for the first time and aside from some nervousness it was really nice. Now we have to meet and it looks like it may happen sooner than I thought.
His family lives here so he is thinking of taking some vacation time to come see them and to meet in person and see if we click there.
Yikes, I thought the hula hoop would stay up longer.
It is an activity that could bring you closer together, but in its format it spacially keeps you apart.
And to be frank I am not sure how I feel about it.
I have recently began the forray into dating again and I have chosen the online status as I prefer it to actually having to go out and try to talk to people.
I am not fond of bars in general, and despise gay bars. All those attractive men who know it and run around in their tight clothes and make attempts to pick up the attractive other men who behave just like them. It maks me feel like I am in high school. (okay I am generalising, the leather bars are not like that but those leather guys kind of scare me and you know what they say "butch in the streets, femme in the sheets).
So I have met someone online who it seems things click with.
We have been chatting for three weeks and things have been progressing well. Last night we talked on the phone for the first time and aside from some nervousness it was really nice. Now we have to meet and it looks like it may happen sooner than I thought.
His family lives here so he is thinking of taking some vacation time to come see them and to meet in person and see if we click there.
Yikes, I thought the hula hoop would stay up longer.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Barbies Dream Home
When I was growing up my father was determined to make "a man" out of me. I have no idea what the hell that means, but indeed he was determined to do this.
This included things like being aggressive about how my hair was cut, the type of clothes that I wore (manly colours only - which sucks because honestly there are so many colours that waver on the verge of manly but are just in touch enough with their emotions to be considered kind of girlie that I wanted to wear but was not allowed) this inclduded navy blue, black, red (and how is that not gay?), and well anything that was muted and not in the gap baby collection for girls. As I aged it also included attempts to monitor what I watched, listened to, and read. But honestly, Daddy dearest was not cunning enough or even bright enough to stop me from doing what I wanted.
This has ended up in he and I arguing a lot. And in these arguments he always brings up an episode from Christmas when I was six years old. This Christmas was the one time that he actually did something himself (or so he says, I am sure he just made my mother go and buy it; but as it was his idea therefore he takes all the credit. It does not matter that my mother did all the execution of the work, as it was his "brain child" then therefore it was all his work. Which I find both arrogant and typically patrichal and ultimatly fucking annoying.
The root of this argument from that one Christmas was how he got me a mechano set that I would not play with. Not lets clarify a few things here: 1) I was not a rough and tumble boy. I was in fact a very girlie boy. I wore nail polish, I cross dressed sometimes, I had tea parties with my sisters, I got overly excited about ice cream with sprinkles and I played with Barbie. 2. If he had at all been paying attention to me and my interests he should have realized that a mechano set was really for him and not for me - did he really think I was gonna put down Barbie and her myriad fashions to pick up a miniature hammer and screw driver? I mean what the fuck? 3) My mother always went along with what he wanted but then she would also give into the things that I wanted. I bet that made things difficult but also very entertaining for her.
My father being the manly man he was (you know the type: wears plaid, goes hunting on the hunting seasons, gets angry about Quebec and the whole "french" thing to the point that he won't say french words that have been adopted into the english language - so therefore Cafes are actually Caves. I dunno - go fig!) was furious that I ignored his mechano set to the point that he would try to force me to play with it.
I did not want to play with it. Barbie was way cooler. I am not sorry about this, she was, or it was, or however you choose to represent Barbie (now that I am older I see that she is a horrible toy - but at that age she was super fun for me) But my father was relentless. My Barbies were taken away, Mom was yelled at, I cried, Barbies were returned.
So finally I acquiesed to my fathers lame ass requests and I made Barbie a home out of the mechano set. And then I refused to touch it ever again. That poory constructed home sat in the living room for weeks. My father silently fuming over the insult that I had betrayed his gift that was to make me more manly by using it to make something inherently girlie. And in all honestly I was not at all mechanically inclined. My Barbie home look poor. It did not look like any of the ones you could get in the store or the sears catalogue and was therefore substandard in my eyes.
But it finally shut my father up and led to other great fights that he and I had about my interests and my identity.
So readers do your child a favour this Christmas and do not get them a toy that you think will influence their personality and interests to some strange notion you have of what it should be. That is just fucking rude. Embrace who your child is and get them a gift that they will actually like. Because if you do not then your child will grow to hate you and end up in therapy and you really can not brag about that to your friends ... now can you?
This included things like being aggressive about how my hair was cut, the type of clothes that I wore (manly colours only - which sucks because honestly there are so many colours that waver on the verge of manly but are just in touch enough with their emotions to be considered kind of girlie that I wanted to wear but was not allowed) this inclduded navy blue, black, red (and how is that not gay?), and well anything that was muted and not in the gap baby collection for girls. As I aged it also included attempts to monitor what I watched, listened to, and read. But honestly, Daddy dearest was not cunning enough or even bright enough to stop me from doing what I wanted.
This has ended up in he and I arguing a lot. And in these arguments he always brings up an episode from Christmas when I was six years old. This Christmas was the one time that he actually did something himself (or so he says, I am sure he just made my mother go and buy it; but as it was his idea therefore he takes all the credit. It does not matter that my mother did all the execution of the work, as it was his "brain child" then therefore it was all his work. Which I find both arrogant and typically patrichal and ultimatly fucking annoying.
The root of this argument from that one Christmas was how he got me a mechano set that I would not play with. Not lets clarify a few things here: 1) I was not a rough and tumble boy. I was in fact a very girlie boy. I wore nail polish, I cross dressed sometimes, I had tea parties with my sisters, I got overly excited about ice cream with sprinkles and I played with Barbie. 2. If he had at all been paying attention to me and my interests he should have realized that a mechano set was really for him and not for me - did he really think I was gonna put down Barbie and her myriad fashions to pick up a miniature hammer and screw driver? I mean what the fuck? 3) My mother always went along with what he wanted but then she would also give into the things that I wanted. I bet that made things difficult but also very entertaining for her.
My father being the manly man he was (you know the type: wears plaid, goes hunting on the hunting seasons, gets angry about Quebec and the whole "french" thing to the point that he won't say french words that have been adopted into the english language - so therefore Cafes are actually Caves. I dunno - go fig!) was furious that I ignored his mechano set to the point that he would try to force me to play with it.
I did not want to play with it. Barbie was way cooler. I am not sorry about this, she was, or it was, or however you choose to represent Barbie (now that I am older I see that she is a horrible toy - but at that age she was super fun for me) But my father was relentless. My Barbies were taken away, Mom was yelled at, I cried, Barbies were returned.
So finally I acquiesed to my fathers lame ass requests and I made Barbie a home out of the mechano set. And then I refused to touch it ever again. That poory constructed home sat in the living room for weeks. My father silently fuming over the insult that I had betrayed his gift that was to make me more manly by using it to make something inherently girlie. And in all honestly I was not at all mechanically inclined. My Barbie home look poor. It did not look like any of the ones you could get in the store or the sears catalogue and was therefore substandard in my eyes.
But it finally shut my father up and led to other great fights that he and I had about my interests and my identity.
So readers do your child a favour this Christmas and do not get them a toy that you think will influence their personality and interests to some strange notion you have of what it should be. That is just fucking rude. Embrace who your child is and get them a gift that they will actually like. Because if you do not then your child will grow to hate you and end up in therapy and you really can not brag about that to your friends ... now can you?
