Marriage. Again.

So North Carolina's Amendment 1 passed. If you don't know what it is, it's supposed to say that "real marriage" is between a man and a woman, but it's so loosely worded that it takes legal status away from other types of domestic partnerships, including unmarried heterosexual couples. That means that they can't file for domestic violence, they don't have hospital visitation rights, they don't have a say in financial matters if their partner is unconscious, and they don't have a say in what happens if their partner dies.

I know it's an issue that's talked about a LOT, and I've already talked about this, but I wanted to put my side of things into it, because I have some thoughts that I haven't heard anyone else say. And as a disclaimer, "gay" includes everything under the LGBTQ spectrum, just because it uses less letters.

Let's begin.

First of all, the number one reason why I think that gay marriage should be legal everywhere is because people are people. That's it. Being sexually attracted to people of the same sex is not their fault, and it is a common misconception that it's a life choice. People are born gay. It's not a gene, it's not a disease, and it's not a choice. You can't catch homosexuality the same way you can't catch perfect eyesight. It's just something you're born with.

Another reason why I fully support gay marriage is because a person is still a person. Marriage is defined in the dictionary as "the legal or religious ceremony that formalizes the decision of two people to live as a married couple, including the accompanying social festivities." Two people is very general. That means everyone, because everyone is a person. That's just how it is.

One reason why I can't understand why people want to make it illegal is that even if it goes against the bible, why is it your business whether or not they go to hell? Besides, if you did "save" them, you'd have a "disgusting pervert" in your heaven. Why would you want that?

Also, why do you want to prevent them from getting married? Marriage should be a right, not a privilege, especially because letting them get married isn't going to prevent straight couples from getting married. It just means that everyone can get married.

Remember when black people couldn't marry white people? It's kinda like that; in 20 years, people will think that it's just a normal thing that's a basic right. I don't understand why people are blowing this up so much. It's not doing any harm to anyone.

It doesn't matter if it's because they can't physically give birth to their own child. The world is overpopulated already (which is also my argument for abortion rights), especially the U.S., and there are plenty of children in orphanages that need a good home. Again, they can't catch sexuality, so they can be straight with gay parents. It happens all the time.

Also, the divorce rate of homosexual couples in the UK was less than one percent within 30 months of legalization. It'll probably rise as more gay marriages happen, but compare what has been done so far with the 50 percent divorce rate of heterosexual couples. And that's just first marriages. 67 percent of second marriages and 74 percent of third marriages end in divorce.

I personally think it's better to live a long, happy relationship with the one you love than to lie to yourself and marry someone you don't love just to prove your sexuality. It's not a crime to be gay. Unfortunately, it's trying to be made a crime to get married if you're gay, which is the issue at hand here.

Obama said last week that he supports gay marriage, which makes me love him even more. He's such a beautiful man, in all respects. I have a picture of him pinned up on my wall that I look at every morning to inspire me.

So that's about it.

Yo Shizzle My Nizzle Dawg.

I'm so uncool.  In my history class, the girl next to me was freaking out about the fact that there was a kind of pepper that was classified as "negro pepper", and I had to explain to her that the Spanish word for "black" is "negro" and it was around a lot longer than slavery in the U.S. when it was used as a derogatory term for African slaves.

She replied with, "Yeah, but I wasn't born back then."







 Bitch, it's not all about you.

I also impressed a bunch of people at a party with the word "floccinaucinihilipilification".  And by "impressed" I mean "bored to death".

So remember that badness that I was feeling in the last post? Well, it's gone now. No more melancholy. Wheee!

Raechelle's in West Virginia. On the car on the way to drop her off at the airport, there was a big-ass moth in the car and it fluttered its nasty little scaly wings all over the left side of my face before I went all ninja on its ass and curled up into the smallest shape I could manage while squealing like a mouse droid. We lost it in the dark until it flew onto my leg and I swatted it and it fell on the floor. We turned the light on and found it twitching on the floor, which freaked me out because it was right on the floor where my feet were. Raechelle picked it up (cue sound of terrified disbelief) and threw it out the window. For the rest of the car ride, I was hypersensitive and was swatting and scratching at my skin where nothing was. I think that qualifies as a phobia of insect-like creatures with scaly, leathery wings. Especially moths, and, coming in second, butterflies. Not just them, either. Bees have that same effect on me. I don't know why. And for some odd reason, I think bats are freaking ADORABLE.

Awwwwww.

I'm trying to get my parents back into music, too. We had a little jamming session last night before we took Raechelle to the airport. We're also getting together with a drummer and a bassist on the 19th to jam some more. Like pros. Yeah.

Last but not least, I got on the waiting list! As of right now you are reading the blog post of someone who is #9 on the waiting list to go to a real high school. I congratulate myself.

Anyways, I need to go before people show up at my house and my sandwich gets soggy.

See ya!

Bagels and Mental Breakdowns

So, I had a meltdown yesterday. I guess I had been holding too much stuff in for too long, and I got set off really easily. It's the most intense one I think I've ever had, too, which is saying something.

So here's what happened.

I had been having a really crappy day in the first place. I was relatively well-rested, but I was late leaving the house to walk to school. It was also really windy, which is probably my least favorite kind of weather, especially for walking to school in at 7:30 in the morning. I had left my homework at home, and therefore was not able to turn it in for full credit. People either pushed me around or completely ignored me, which actually happens pretty much daily, but for some reason it really got to me that day. It was even windier while I was walking home. When I got home, I saw that my chore was to take out the compost, which is my least favorite chore. I missed dinner and ate by myself, and then Raechelle told me to go do my chore.

That was okay. It wasn't difficult, but another part of taking out the compost is to rinse the bin out because the bag leaks sometimes. The only way I had seen that done was by using the hose, which was outside in the cold wind, so I skipped it and just put the bag in. It's not like anyone would notice. Raechelle asked me if I had rinsed it out, and I lied and said yes.

After that, I went downstairs, and about half an hour later, Raechelle came into my room and said, "You said you rinsed the bin out?"

I said yes.

"With the hose?"

I said yes.

"So why isn't the hose or the ground wet?"

I was silent. I couldn't get out of this. Water doesn't dry that fast.

"You lied to me."

I said yes.

"I don't like being lied to. It makes me not want to do things for you, like making a hair appointment for you."

This hurt really badly because it was the one thing I had been looking forward to for a while. I really didn't have a lot else to focus on to make me happy, although I really don't have a very good idea as to why it was so important to me. All I knew was that it was, and if it was cancelled, I would be devastated.

"We'll see if I get over it."

She left.

I started bawling. I cried for a couple minutes, getting angry at her words and the way she said them. "We'll see if I get over it" was the worst, because it put images of her leaving in my mind. Then I started getting angry at myself, mostly because I realized that this wasn't the first time I've lied. I've lied to several people, even people that I care about. This spiral of self-hate started to get worse until crying didn't help. Unlike usual, I didn't feel any bad feelings get out of my body. They just stayed there and festered and made me hate myself even more.

I decided that I should take all this anger and hate out on something inanimate so that I'm not hurting anyone physically, so I threw my water bottle. It hit something soft and wasn't very satisfying, so I threw a chair cushion. That hit the wall, but still wasn't satisfying, so I threw a cup that hit and dented the wall. Normally that would have satisfied me, but it didn't. All the hate was still there. I sat there and decided that the reason why I was so angry was because she didn't discipline me right. So I attempted to correct her.

So I stormed upstairs and into Raechelle's office, where she was sitting at her computer.

I was still hysterical, so I slurred out the words, "could you yell at me please?"

Raechelle was confused.

"Yell at me, please!" I got frustrated that she still wouldn't.

"Why?"

I tried to think of why, but I didn't really know at the time, so I just said, "I can't stand it when you throw that passive-aggressive crap at me!"

She said things about how she wasn't going to yell at me and that it didn't make sense that I wasn't happy with the way she disciplined me. She said that it didn't justify yelling. It wasn't that big of a deal, but she didn't like it when people lied to her.

I said, "Well I think I deserve it."

I started getting even more hysterical. I wrapped my arm around my stomach and put my hand in front of my mouth to try to contain the hyperventilation. It didn't work, and I stood there for a few minutes, sobbing and hyperventilating, until Raechelle got up and said, "I still love you. It was just a little lie," and embraced me.

For some reason, none of this was helping, either. It was like some kind of force field was shielding me from happiness that day. I tried to fight it by telling her everything else that was bad that I had done. I told her that I didn't just lie once; I'm a compulsive liar and I steal things like really nice pens and little trinkets without them knowing, but I hit my limit when I took a little plastic toy from a six-year-old's house. I told her that I get bad grades because I lie about my schoolwork and homework, and that it's not like I try to; it just comes out, even when I have it planned out in my head that I'm going to tell the truth.

She seemed bewildered and took me to the couch to talk about it.

I didn't stop hyperventilating for probably ten minutes.

The last time I've lied since yesterday was when, after the talk, I said I was better.

It still hasn't gone away.