Day #13

An Artistic Expression of Self: Life As I Know It

1. In Which I Go Towards The Light And End Up On This Gorgeous Piece Of Rock

2. In Which I Learn That Not All Boys Are Looking For Love At Age Nine

3. In Which I Hate My Body And It's A Little Frustrating That It Doesn't Always Care About What I Want It To Do

4. In Which I Rediscover Something That Has Made Me Feel At Least A Little Worthwhile All Along

5. In Which I Dislike Myself A Little More Because My Surroundings Tell Me I Must Believe In God But I Don't... I Don't Think...

6. In Which I Meet The Romeo To My Juliet, Minus The Fatal Ending

7. In Which I Begin To Realize That I Am Not Society's Canvas And I Can Make Good And Sound Decisions About My Life And Still Feel Good About It

8. In Which I Make A Huge Decision And Field The Question Many Times Over, 'You Mean It's An All-Girls School?'

9. In Which I Go International And Feel Completely In My Element.

10. In Which I Start My Quest For A Better Future And Move Out For The First Time.

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Author's Note: Since beginning college, I've had a number of interesting writing assignments.  This one in particular was assigned sort of as a way 

Day #12

I am a legal adult.  Even before this, I was able to form my own thoughts.  I am an adult currently living in my parent's house.  At least for another month.  Why is it that I can't post something on the internet without my mother commenting on my activity?

Daniel Radcliffe is an atheist.  I am not phased.  She sees that I like the really well-done photo that just happens to say,

I am an atheist, but I'm very relaxed about it.  I don't preach my atheism, but I have a huge respect for people like Richard Dawkins who do.  Anything he does on television, I will watch.

 There was a flurry of commenters saying how disappointed they were that Daniel Radcliffe had decided that he wouldn't accept Jesus as his Lord and Savior.

I'm not angry that those people were attacking Daniel Radcliffe.  I'm angry that suddenly this person was completely different than they thought him to be.  All because they knew his religious status.

I am agnostic.  There may or may not be a higher power.  I don't know.  I don't have any thoughts on the matter.  I can't give you names or prophecies.  Most people don't know this about me unless they ask or unless I feel that it's best to tell them.

A similar situation happened with me.  I was reading, as I usually am, when I came across a word I had never seen before: 'Agnostic.'  I knew it related to religion, but that's as far as my knowledge went.  I decided to look it up:

1.      a person who holds that the existence of the ultimate cause,as God, and the       essential nature of things are unknown andunknowable, or that human knowledge is limited to experience. Synonyms: disbeliever, nonbeliever, unbeliever;doubter, skeptic, secularist, empiricist; heathen, heretic,infidel, pagan.

2.      a person who denies or doubts the possibility of ultimate knowledge in some area of study.

3.      a person who holds neither of two opposing positions on a topic: Socrates was an agnostic on the subject of immortality.

 I was very pleased with myself.  I knew what I felt before I had found this definition, but sitting there in front of the computer screen, I now had I word for what I believed just as most other people in the world do.  I was excited.  I had had conversations about my religious views with my boyfriend, who is a very strong Christian.  I am proud to say that I have never tried to sway his views, though he has tried to sway mine.  Being my boyfriend, I thought that he would be extremely pleased that I had discovered something about myself.  Unfortunately, he didn't take too kindly to this discovery of mine.  I was happy and this was earth-shattering for him.  He was a devout Christian who was dating a girl who believed the opposite of what he believed.  He essentially told me that I hadn't made the right choice and I still resent him for that.

One night, years later, I decided to ask him if he thought I was going to hell.  To which he responded,

Yes.

Another friend of mine thought that I was Christian because of the way I acted towards other people.  I am pleasant to other people, I am accepting, understanding, and usually I can see from other points of view, though sometimes they need to explain their views to me, which I am open to listening to.  Because of my behavior, he thought I was Christian.  Because of my behavior, I thought I was a decent human being.

One afternoon at the mall, I made the mistake of being nice and continuing a conversation with these two ladies who had complimented my sister's friend's shoes.  Suddenly, before I had realized it, my faith (or lack thereof) was being questioned.  They asked if they could pray for me.  I told them,

If you really want to...

Little did I know they meant they wanted to pray with me now.

I didn't want to pray with them.  I don't put much stock in prayer.  I believe that in order for good things to happen, we need to do something instead of just hoping for it to happen.  In my case, there wasn't much for them to do.

I don't how to act around prayer.  When everyone else has bowed their heads an folded their hands, I stare awkwardly around the circle.  I'm forced to be apart of this ceremony, physically.  But I don't participate like I should.  It makes me a little uncomfortable and I don't know what to do.

I think my boyfriend prays for my soul.  I don't want him to.  He doesn't care.  Even though I asked him not to.  I feel like I'm not being respected because of this.  I don't try to sway him.  Why does he and other people like those ladies at the mall feel that they can?


To the ladies at the mall, I'm sure that I seemed like a perfectly decent person to them while we were talking about things not relating to religion at all.

Suddenly they find out I'm not religious.

All hell breaks loose and suddenly, I'm the bad guy.

I don't understand how this works.  I try and treat people like any decent human being should, I don't make a mess of things on purpose, I'm a hard worker, among other things.  Am I suddenly not as good as my Christian counterpart with the same qualities?  Why does that make any sense?

I am an agnostic who will not let go of what I do or don't believe.  But now I feel like I'm doing something wrong and that I'm guilty because of what I believe.

When my mother commented on my Facebook activity regarding the picture of Daniel Radcliffe and the comment that I wrote, it felt like she was scolding me and that I was in trouble.

You were just talking about his freedom of speech, right?

I don't think she remembers.

I was talking about his freedom of speech, but also the ridiculousness surrounding the discussion, which I talked about already.  I didn't bring up my own religious views when I told her this (it's on my profile.  If she has a problem with it, we can talk about it.  But I really don't think that it's any of her business.  She is not a failure of a parent just because I don't believe in the same thing that she does.  She taught me why she believes what she believes, but I don't accept her views as my own.  I don't think that there's anything wrong with that.

My religious status is nothing to be ashamed of.  I don't want it questioned.  I don't want other people to change it unless I allow them.  I don't want anyone to make me feel like I'm a failure as a person for being an agnostic when I can do the same things that they can without being religious.

Day #11: The Inner Turmoil of NaNoWriMo

Starting a little after the beginning of the 2011-12 school year, I started writing a one-act play in the hopes of having it performed.  My play was torn apart, put back together, matched with a director (who turned out to be a friend of mine), and finally, to my great joy, it was performed.  I am very happy with how everything came out and I'm happy with the edits my friend made.  So now, I want to share it with you.  Let me know what you think!
--Jude

Day #10

Am I not worth anything to you anymore?

I see you during the day

but it seems that we barely speak

Even if we do

It's small talk

I'm not sure how long I can hold on

I'm clinging to this thread

But thread only clings for so long

I'm waiting for that sign that says you're still there

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Author's Note: Huhhhh..... I think senior year is bringing on this sort of depressive state... I don't like it.  I especially don't like that it keeps coming and going.  Let me solve it or let me not deal with it at all!  I just want to be able to know what's going on with me socially, mentally, and all that jazz.  Please tell me that this is normal.

Day #9

It started with a dance.

I'm not much for dancing.  I can't dance and I've never really gotten into it as far as wanting to take it to another level and learn ballet or jazz dance.  When I got to high school, I missed homecoming.  Coming from an elementary/middle school that was relatively far away from my highschool, I didn't know anyone that would ask me to go to a dance with them.  And I wasn't interested in any of the guys that I had gone to school with before.  So when it was around Sadie's time, I resolved to ask a boy to go with me.  I really wanted to go-- I didn't want to spend high school sitting around and wishing something would happen for me. 

English class was my favorite.  Even today when I walk by that classroom on my way to lunch, I take in the familiar floral scent of potpourri.  I take a quick peek into the classroom and see the floor to ceiling bookshelves filled with new books and old books, the lamps that cast a home-y glow when the overhead fluorescent light was off.  It's still by far my favorite classroom.

I was usually the first one into the classroom.  I didn't have very many friends as a freshman, so I had no one to stop to talk to.  I just crossed the commons and went up the stairs, purposely trying to be first.  It was like a game.

My teacher told us that we were getting new seats, so she took out the new seating chart and told me where to go.  I was right by the door.

I sat with two boys and two girls (well, one, since the other girl wasn't there a lot of the time).  Everyone was excitedly babbling about going to Sadies (I think it's a freshman thing, since they never seem to know what's going on...) and our table was not the exception to this.  One of the guys at my table was going around and asking if any of us were going.  The other girl at my table (the one that was in the classroom consistently) said she was going with a group of friends and they were dressing up as the Powerpuff Girls from Cartoon Network.  I said I wanted to go, but I hadn't asked anyone yet.  The other boy said he'd go if someone asked him, but he didn't think that anyone would want to ask him.

I'm terrible at putting the pieces of a mental puzzle together, so I didn't even think to solve this problem.  The the boy that had asked if any of us were going passed a note to me across the table.

"You should ask the Guy to your right to Sadie's."

I think I whispered something really insensitive back like, "I don't know if I want to."
The bell was going to ring in five minutes, so everyone was up and moving around-- being generally social.  I saw the boy that was sitting next to me.  I really wanted to go and this boy was going to be my big chance.  I took a deep breath and walked up to him.

"Do you want to go to Sadie's with me?"

"Umm... sure."

After that, everything fell into place.  We went to Sadie's and had a great time!  We danced, we went on hayrides, we talked a lot... it was great fun.  Admittedly, it was weird holding this boy's hand, but it was either that or kiss.  I remember really wanting to kiss, but that was because I liked the idea of kissing, not that it was going to be with this boy.  We just weren't ready yet.

After that night, we became good friends.  We talked a lot and sat next to each other whenever we could.  Soon he started walking with me to my bus and we talked until the last possible minute until I absolutely had to get on the bus.  My bus driver began to notice how much time I was spending with this boy.

A couple months later, our interations caught the eye of some of our peers and we began to get questions.

"Are you together?"

"Are you two going out with each other?"

We'd always stare at each other with blank looks because neither of us really knew how to answer or ask the other The Question.  One day, another girl came up to us and asked us the same question and we came up with the typical answer of, "Umm..."

"Well, do you like her?"

"Yes!"

My heart fluttered-- cheesy but true.

"And do you like him?"

"Yes!"

"Then you two are a couple!"

We were all smiles after that.

We were walking to my bus when I turned to him and asked:

"Are we really together now?"

"Only if you want to be," he said smiling.

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Author's Note: This is a true "How They Met" story.

Day #8

Bethany closed her eyes and felt the warmth of the summer sun on her skin.  She was holding hands with the girl she loved while they were both lying on the dock that jutted out of a secluded part of the lake.

"Excuse the cliché, but I really hope that this day never ends..." said Bethany.

The girl, her name was Genevieve, gently squeezed Bethany's hand and a smile spread across each of their faces.

"Are we going to tell anyone?" asked Genevieve.

"I don't think that I want to," said Bethany, after taking some time to think.

"But... why not?" asked Genevieve.

"I just... I think that I'd shock my parents," said Bethany.  "I'm just not ready to have that conversation or take on that uphill battle."

"So... does that mean we can't tell anyone?" asked Genevieve.

"I don't know who we could tell," said Bethany.

"So, it's not that you're ashamed that we're together now," said Genevieve.

"Of course it's not that.  I wouldn't be here if I wasn't absolutely sure," said Bethany.

"Have you ever doubted?" asked Genevieve.

"Of course I have," said Bethany.  "It wasn't obvious for me like it was for you."

"Then how did you find out?" asked Genevieve.

"I don't know... I just... did," said Bethany.  "It's really hard to explain.  I just thought about it one day and the more I thought about it, I realized something about myself and everything in my life just... fit.  But it wasn't just based on one time.  I thought about this many times.  I came up with the same conclusion.  What was it like for you?"

"I kind of did the same thing as you did, but I realized it earlier than you did.  My parents kind of wondered too.  I had always been a little more attracted to females and I was absolutely terrified by the male gender, not to mention that I didn't feel comfortable around them and there was no level of attraction.  When I actually told them, there was no surprise.  They were completely supportive of me and everything was good," said Genevieve.

"I wish it was so easy for me to tell my family," said Bethany.  "I'm so used to being close to my parents.  We've never had a secret between us.  I can't help but wonder just how well I know my parents because every time I try to convince myself to tell them, I stop myself because I just don't know how they'll react.  I don't want them to think that they've failed me or that I've failed them... I know there isn't a connection between sexual identity and failure, but I don't know if my parents see things that way."

"If they really love you, then they'll take you for how you are.  One realization shouldn't change their view of you," said Genevieve.

Bethany smiled.

"See, that's why I keep you.  You just make everything better."

"There you go with your clichés again," said Genevieve, smiling.

"But they're true."

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Author's Note: I honestly don't understand how a realization changes the way you think of a person when you've known them for years.  It's beyond me...  And it doesn't even have to be a realization about one's sexual identity.  It could be a realization about religion, politics... anything.

I apologize for my lack of updating.  It's NaNoWriMo season, which means I'm working on bigger projects than just this blog.  As for the months before November, I don't have a legitimate excuse.  I was working on another short story and I just couldn't find a way to move forward, so this blog just sat and gathered dust.

I'll try and update a bit more regularly.  Perhaps once a week?

Day #7

Most of the time, we'd just lay on the floor and listen to music with our eyes closed.  His head would be touching my head and my hand would be in his.  We liked the record player the most.  We could listen to CDs any time.


I placed a stack of LPs and 45s on top of each other and set the turn table in motion.  We lay on the Persian rug with our eyes closed. 


After a couple of hours, the Beatles began to play.  We listened in silence for a while-- I mouthed the words, not wanting to wake him up.  Then the song 'Something' came on.  It was my favorite.


"Hey, love?" I asked him.  "Are you awake?"


The room was warm and the Persian rug exceptionally comfortable, so I expected him to sleep through my words.


"I'm awake," he responded.


I smiled.


"Don't you love this song?" I asked him.


"I do," he said.


I breathed deeply and then I felt him lift himself from the carpet patch next to me.  I opened my eyes to find that he was standing above me.  Without saying anything, he extended his arm to me and I grabbed it, allowing him to pull me up.  In one fluid motion, he lifted me from the floor where I landed in his arms.  He supported me until I regained my footing.


I stood up on my own and he ran his hands up and down my back and I put my arms around his neck.  We began to sway in time with the music.  His face gradually came closer to mine until we were cheek to cheek and dancing in time to the Beatles.


In the amount of time that I've known that falling in love is possible, I never thought it would happen to me.  In this precise moment, during this one song, I've never been more sure of anything in my life.

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 Author's Note: I'm a hopeless romantic.  I really want this to happen in real life.  Boyfriend, even though you don't really know about this blog, I hope you find this so that we can follow through on this thing.  Pretty please?