NOSTALGIA IS A WEAPON

I had this odd conversation with myself today about sex changes. Regender-fication (is that a word?). While I have absolutely no interest in having a sex change performed (I am very happy being a man and having a penis, thanks), I am INTENSELY curious as to what kind of psychological ramifications are involved. How would I feel if I were to become a woman? How would that change my everyday life? How would that change the lives of people around me? What does it all mean?

I’m also on a bit of a rampage today. Why? Because I can’t stop hearing about *drumroll please* gay marriage. Syndromes blogged about this recently, but I feel the need to contribute my two cents.

Now let me make it very clear that I believe that sexual orientation is not a choice. It wasn’t for me. If I had the choice to be bi (as is the case) or straight (as is not the case), I probably would’ve chosen straight. Why? It’s easier. It’s absolutely fucking hell to not feel comfortable in your own skin. To feel like you have to lie to people you love, just to win their continued approval. To be called names by people who barely know you. All this fucking hurts. The only choice I had available was this: to either lie to myself and suppress who I really was, or to just own up to being myself, to be honest with myself and to explore where my (involuntary) feelings would take me. I chose the latter, and I’m a much happier person as a result.

So that being said, there’s a very good possibility that I could end up with a guy someday (if I end up with anyone, that is). If that happens, if I end up with a man that I want to spend the rest of my life with…. well, I want to get married. Denying gay marriage isn’t about protecting the “sanctity” of marriage, it’s about denial of equal rights. By denying gay marriage, you’re telling me that my love is less valid than yours. That my feelings aren’t as “real” or important. Bullshit. You can call it what you will: civil union, marriage… I’m not here to play the semantics game. What I want is the ability to validate myself, to be able to state my love in the same way that you do. I really don’t think that’s too much or too hard to ask for.

This post should probably be private, but to emphasize the point I’m going to make it public. I’m not completely out, but fuck it.

(By the way, this post isn’t targeted at anyone in specific. The “you(s)” in question are the general public, not any of you guys.)

I am in so much fucking pain right now. I just re-watched Garden State, and I’m stricken by this movie that I love, how much BULLSHIT it is. Love doesn’t conquer all, you can’t just give up on your medication, there is still this fucking huge obstacle to overcome. I hate myself so much. I’m surrounded (in spirit) by friends who love and care about me, and yet there is nothing they can say, nothing they can do to make me feel better. I feel so unbelievably fucked up, and I’m sure part of that is the medication. I’m on all these fucking drugs, addicted to them, and they’re not helping. My psychiatrist decided today to INCREASE the Zoloft, and then to add (on a temporary basis) Klonopin, which is a benzodiazepine, and fucking addictive as as hell. Great, one more thing to be addicted to. I’m addicted to all these drugs, and I’m addicted to smoking, and I just want to be free of all these dependencies. I want to feel better, and my therapist tells me I’m doing all I can. Then, what? What the fuck? Am I supposed to be CONTENT with this feeling? This feeling of worthlessness, this constant pain? I went on a fucking week’s vacation with three of my closest friends, and I was fucking miserable. There is something profoundly wrong with that sentence.

It’s the quiet night that breaks me
Like a dozen paper cuts that only I can trace

Oh, goddammit. I’m tired of being so fucking pathetic, and I’m tired of lying about it. Why the fuck can’t I just feel BETTER? What the fuck is wrong with me?

It’s 3 am and I can’t sleep and I don’t know what the hell to do. I would call my doctor tomorrow, but oh wait, it’s fucking SATURDAY. I want off these drugs. I don’t remember what it’s like to not be on them.

I pray for sleep.

In lieu of an actual update, here’s a post I wrote last week while without internet:
Okay, so I’m sitting here in Aruba watching tv (I know, I know, what the hell am I doing watching tv, but we’re tired dammit), and they’re showing one of those Dateline NBC programs about capturing sexual predators. And oh fuck am I’m pissed.

Let me start with this: if you’re so fucking concerned with what your children are doing on the internet then perhaps you should consider having an OPEN CONVERSATION with them. This is not about blocking sites or spying on your kids to make sure they’re staying within the lines (and I draw a HUGE distinction between monitoring and spying). That won’t help. What you’re doing there is telling kids that it’s wrong to be curious, that’s it’s wrong to want to know. Try being open with your kids about things like sex (well, ESPECIALLY sex) so they don’t have to go looking for the information somewhere else. And goddammit if it isn’t okay for teens and kids to see graphic violence, but let’s get all up-in-arms about them seeing a fucking boob. Ridiculous.

Okay, back to the actual topic. These shows send the wrong message. Sex with a minor is illegal, and rightfully so. But let’s think about this for a minute. Instead of trying to find the reason why this stuff happens, what the thought processes are behind it, they’re (“they” being the authorities involved) more interested in making a public spectacle out of people who are very likely mentally ill in some way. What makes pedophilia so different in classification from bipolar disorder, which I’m being treated for? Why do these people have something “wrong” with them? Why aren’t these people considered victims rather than predators? Most of the people profiled on this show are likely not out to hurt anyone. They’ve got something inside them that drives them to this behavior. Shouldn’t the goal be to isolate the reasons behind this behavior and to figure out how to treat it and prevent it in the future?

On a side note, for how many fucking hundreds of years have we been marrying young (VERY young) girls to much older men? Could this not be something that’s been bred into people, rather than an abberant behavior?

Yes, the “predators” in question are breaking the law, and they should be punished. But instead of just throwing these people in jail and slapping them on the sex offender list, perhaps we should be offering FUCKING THERAPY. Instead of victimizing and humiliating these people on television, perhaps we could spare them a little fucking dignity and get them the help they need.

None of this is helping. None of it. The media are more interested in creating panic and confusion than helping people, and that, my friends, is what is fucking sick. Calling the show “Perverted Justice” is more apropos than NBC realizes.

*sigh*. I’m incoherent at this point. Time to end this rant. Marriah and I are both considering writing letters to Dateline. At least that way I’m doing something productive about it. Actual Aruba-related posting when happen I get back.

Who wants to hear about the really stupid thing I did? I hope that’s everybody, ’cause here we go: (more…)

Don’t people have anything better to do that come and piss all over someone’s property? If this blog were a house I’d be sitting on the porch with a shotgun right about now.

Jesus, now I sound like a crazy Southern hillbilly. And I’m not even from the South…

I can’t wait to switch to Wordpress.