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Sunday, 08 November 2009

  • Ashamed


    I am not ashamed of Him.
    I am ashamed of Them.

    I'm not sure how many times I have shook my head with disgust at the actions of "Christians." I'm no Saint; in fact, I'm one heck of a sinner. If I had a checklist of things I do wrong throughout the day, many would be checked off, at the top would be "anger" or "road rage."

    But never in my life would I ever do the kinds of things I see my "fellow" Christians doing at (what I call) Hate Rallies. In high school, I remember listening to my older sister (who was actually a teacher I'd gotten really close to) tell me about a rally to the Capitol in Sacramento, CA fighting for equal protection under anti-discriminatory laws in schools for LGBTQ youth. As she and other members of the GSA walked towards the Capitol while people on the side of the street held signs that basically announced God hated fags and that all of them were going to burn in Hell.

    I was shocked. I remember crying because I felt betrayed. By... my people?

    Those Bible-reading, crucifix-wearing, Jesus-loving people. I am one of them. And I don't want to be ashamed of that. What I am ashamed of is the actions taken by those "Christians" against people I love.

    But then in the midst of me crying, I remember my sister giving me a hug and telling me that despite those people's hatred, I was the person that helped defy her anger towards Christians. If anything, she told me, I was the real Christian in all of this. Because I love and I accept; and for an Agnostic, Lesbian woman, I still accepted and loved her for her and not the labels.

    I don't want to be a traitor to my faith; but I am fully okay with being a traitor to the people to preach love, charity and kindness and act with hate, ignorance, and slanted judgment.

    [more later]

    - Pages

Friday, 06 November 2009

  • Hit on.. what? Huh?


    It's always the most random times these things happen. Waiting for the train, purchasing soap at Trader Joe's, etc. And whether or not I'm smiling, it's always a bit creepy and surprising.

    "Can I just tell you.. you're incredibly gorgeous?"

    Um.. me? Are you on crack?

    Every so often I even forget that I can be seen by other people, and sometimes this yields unexpected results, specifically, me receiving the shock of the day and trying in vain to scuttle away to somewhere people cannot see me.

    -Pages

  • cont'd

    Remember those walls I built?

    Well, baby, they're staying put. I'm actually fortifying them.

  • I would be lying...


    if I said I wasn't hurt.

    People tell me to lighten up, see the bright side, be a positive thinker.

    So I do that. I lighten up, I look at the bright side until the sun permanently damages my eyes and I smile like an idiot until my cheeks feel numb.

    And then I sit and wait.

    Like that loser kid that spent the last two days decorating her living room with balloons and streamers, got the cake, snacks and plates set up just right and waits for eight hours patiently until she's finally convinced no one is showing up for her birthday.

    Yeah, I know that feeling.

    - Pages

Wednesday, 04 November 2009

  • You Were There/I Love When You Fail Me


    Okay, I'm disappointed. And still so very unsurprised.

    I'm performing tomorrow at another college, for my friend's fraternity's fundraising event and well, honestly... I expected people would be more willing to come out. For support, y'know.

    *sigh*

    *even longer sigh*

    I should stop this expectations business and start assuming everyone will fail me. Then I'll be excited when someone doesn't.

    Once again, reaching out and finding only more air.

    - Pages

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    • Name: Call me "Pages"
    • Gender: Female
    • Member Since: 7/4/2006

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  • Writing is dangerous because we are afraid of what the writing reveals: the fears, the angers, the strengths of a woman under triple or quadruple oppression. Yet in that very act lies our survival because a woman who writes has power. And a woman with power is feared. - G. Anzaldua

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