Resolutions!

I don't usually do resolutions. I usually fail at living up to them, but when they're things like "Get with so-and-so" like I did at around age 12, then what did I expect?

I like the idea behind it, though, and I decided to have three, and only three, resolutions for 2011.

3.) Choose Happiness

This has, admittedly, been a very difficult year for me. With the high of graduation came the nadir of unemployment and uncertainty and disappointment. With the new year, I want to accomplish my goals, but I really want to choose joy, contentment, and happiness over the sadness that has utterly assaulted me the latter part of the year. That means more to me than any job or career.

2.) Fall in love

This is less of a resolution and more of a hope. I haven't felt deep feelings for someone since high school, and I miss that. Most of all, I miss the great poetry that came from it (ha ha). In all honesty, I feel like I'm finally in a good emotional place to both give and receive love. So, it'd be nice to fall in love again.

1.) Get a Snuggle Buddy

If I accomplish no other goal this year, the goal is to get a snuggle buddy. I'm lonely, and I'd like to snuggle with someone. That person would hopefully be a nice, hot, intelligent guy, and he doesn't have to be my man. He can just be a nice, hot, intelligent guy who's my friend and would like to hold me and spoon as we watch movies or go to sleep. For now, I have Cheer Bear, and Cheer Bear has been the best snuggle buddy so far.

Me and Cheer Bear; we're very close.

But I'd like a human snuggle buddy. For reals.

And if you'd like to be my snuggle buddy, leave me a message in the comments section!

And have a happy, and safe, new year!

You're Homophobic and Heterosexist. Yes, You.

I'm back!

I've actually been meaning to write this blog post for a minute, but I postponed it until I could accurately articulate all that I wanted to say. Then, a tweef (Twitter Beef) erupted between Chris Brown and Raz-B yesterday, and I found it largely appropriate.

If you don't know, Raz-B, formerly of B2K, tweeted some creeptastic love tweets to Rihanna, with no reply, and then posted a snide comment to Chris Brown about how he couldn't understand how anyone could attack Rihanna blah blahness. Chris went all crazy and started calling Raz-B all kinds of stuff, saying things about the state of his anus and about how he's gay--honey, it was nuts!

Then a couple minutes ago, I got on Twitter and saw a link to this article on TMZ about how Chris Brown is apologizing and saying that he's not homophobic.

|Insert straight human face resembling this ---> o_o|

Chris, you's a damn lie.

You don't get to make fun of someone using references to stereotypical or actual gay behavior and then be like "I love gay people!" and think you get a pass. Negro, PLEASE.

You are homophobic. Wanna know how I know? Because I'm homophobic. My momma's homophobic. My pastor's homophobic. My friends are homophobic. Everyone I know is homophobic.

I know you might be confused since I've posted a couple blogs demonizing and drawing attention to homophobia. But it's true. I can't help it. I'm homophobic too. And heterosexist.

I've been raised in a society where being gay was (and is) seen as something "other," something weird, something disgusting, something abominable. Unfortunately, it something that stays with me since I've internalized it and subscribed to it for many years.

I work hard to eradicate my homophobia and my heterosexism just as others work to work through their racism and sexism (and I do that too). I constantly cast down and check my homophobic thoughts. I remind myself daily about the necessary love I must have for the LGBT community. I incessantly force myself to have views about the LGBT community that work for justice.

And you do it too, either outright or inside. As much as you try to deny it, you're homophobic deep down in your core. You believe stereotypes. You use the word "gay" as a slur or epithet. You laugh at "feminine" men. You don't believe in gay "marriage" simply based on the traditional definition of "marriage" as if language is locked and definitions never change over time and across cultures...

But I digress.

We all are homophobic and heterosexist. And it's okay as long as it doesn't stay that way, as long as you fight through it in order to promote love and justice, as long as you are casting down every hateful thought, as long as you realize that legislation should never be used to oppress others and deny them of their natural right to love and happiness.

It pains me every single day. I hate that I'm homophobic and heterosexist, absolutely despise that part of myself. But I constantly educate myself and try to show love, understanding, sympathy, and, when I can, empathy.

I also check my language and try not to publicly make fun of a person by utilizing gay slurs and pretend it's okay!

So, Chris, gon head and slap yourself because you are homophobic.

Most of us, if not all of us, are.

Christmas Isn't the Same.

In a lot of ways, Christmas is for children. From the commercials on television, to the Sears and Toys R Us toybook catalogues, to the wrapped presents and whatnot. And it should be. Christmas is full of gift-giving, decorations, and love--the shit children consume and sit on. We Christians throw some Jesus in the mix, and it makes it all even better.

However, as I recognize that tomorrow is Christmas, I also recognize that it doesn't feel that way. We didn't decorate this year but I felt the same way when we did decorate last year. Christmas, for me, just isn't the same.

I don't feel a light anymore; I don't feel excitement anymore. I look back at old pictures and home videos where my brothers, cousins, and I were so giddy and happy. I think about leaving out cookies and milk for Santa. I think about how we would wake each other up Christmas morning so we can open presents as early as possible. I remember spending time with loved ones and having fun.

Christmas 2010 doesn't have any of that. Instead of being with loved family members, I'm praying that someone doesn't come over so I don't have to deal with bullshit. Instead of being excited over presents, I feel like an asshole because I can't financially give or contribute to anything when at this point I feel like I should be able to.

Instead of being the "most wonderful time of the year," it feels like just another damn day.

I guess I'm disillusioned by adulthood. You look forward to Christmas as a child because you think about all you can get and how it would make you happy. Instead, I realize that any gift I could be given wouldn't make me happy because I have more monstrous things to contend with.

And a part of me--hell, all of me--wishes I had those childish eyes again.

Don't Get Used To This.

I've been neglecting the blog recently. Not because I have nothing to write about but simply because I don't want to write about some of the ideas I have because they're a bit personal, and I don't like touching on those things that get a bit too close to my psyche. I don't want to use my blog as therapy.

Alas, I came across this article which poses the question, "Can Fathers Walk Away From Their Children?" Reading the article was cool but for some reason, I got choked up reading the comments of the article.

Maybe it was the annoying shit I dealt with over Thanksgiving with my Dad. Maybe it was the fact that I've spent more days crying about that than I would like to since it happened. Maybe it was the statement my mom told me soon after that was nagging at my head: "Your father's leaving and staying gone was a shot at me. You guys just got caught in the middle."

I don't like to be that woman with "Daddy Issues," yet I can't pretend that I wasn't affected by my father's absence. I don't trip too much over his emotional disconnect. Yes, my dad doesn't know me as a person and clearly doesn't care to, but I, if anything, am more upset at his refusal to support his children when they needed him the most like helping to pay for college expenses, paying the mortgage, paying the gas bill so we don't have to take cold showers, buying us food when my mother was nursing broken ribs so that we can eat since she couldn't work, things like that. Even more, I resent that all of these things have happened but he can pop up on my birthday or Thanksgiving and pretend like none of this happened and everything's okay.

Maybe it's just the fact that instead of the "giving up the fight" talked about in the article, it's the knowledge that my dad never, ever one day in my life fought for me.

Wow.