Thursday, February 17, 2011

Waste Not, Want Not.

This semester, a new dorm and dining hall opened on campus. Students have generally accepted this new dining hall as THE dining hall and people crowd the tables every night. Students will fill up their plates, eat half and throw the rest away. In an effort to cut down on the waste, the school has put up a board that tracks how many pounds of waste each day, and a bin with food bits in it.

Now, I understand not eating something because you don't like it, and I greatly encourage trying new things, even if you're not sure how it'll taste. But I've seen students eat half a burger, and throw the rest away. I once saw a girl take three licks off an ice cream cone (that she made herself) and throw the rest away. It's as if some of these people think the food supply is never ending.

Last December I decided that I would stop throwing away food, or at least cut back. Something that I'm proud to say as been extremely easy. First, I cut back on portions. This has actually made me healthier. Now when I finish a meal, I sit back let my stomach decide if it's full or not and act accordingly.

But food isn't the only waste I've seen at Salem State. My apartment mates constantly leave the television and lights on. Once again, I understand the need to have background sound playing and not wanting to wake up to a dark house, but I find it all unnecessary. Right now, I have the light in my room on, and my laptop charging. That's it. My cell phone charger is unplugged and only gets plugged in when I need it. Same with my iPod and battery chargers.

Energy and food are expensive. Let's all hold hands and try not to waste it. Or at least grow up and act like adults who give a fuck.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

A look around my room

I moved into dorms this January. I packed the night before, and excluding my flip-flops, I have everything I need (oh and food, but that's not what I meant).

I have my beddings (pillows, blankets, sheets, etc), clothes, personal hygiene (toothbrush, shampoo, body wash, foot cream, etc.) and student necessities (backpack, binders, pencils, etc). But that's something every student has. This post is about the items that won't help me in college, but I NEEDED them.

First thing I packed was my cameras. I'm a journalist, so I need these. A digital camera that I love, but is getting old. And a flip camera that I almost never use. I also brought little notepads, as those are easier to carry than notebooks. Pretty simple.

Next, a calendar, batteries, various chargers, iPod, and an address book. Self-explanatory.

Third, my winter gloves and scarf. Also self-explanatory, but I choose my TMNT gloves, not because they work (they're fingerless and thin as air) but because they remind me to be myself. My scarf is actually a toga slash turned into a scarf. That came because I wanted my roommate to know I'm a little bit of an old ball.

Fourth, books and a deck of cards. To fight boredom. These ones are failing at their jobs. I finished all the books, and I'm too shy to ask my roommates to play with me. Hopefully, this will get better, but I doubt it. Once a pattern sets in, it's in for life.

Fifth, a blow-up desktop zombie. This is because I love zombies, and because my sister gave him to me. He reminds me of her, but he also tells me that life is definite and if I don't act now, I'll lose my chance. I have a skull bead that does the same thing, but I don't have it up yet.

Sixth, is my book journal. Every time I finish a book, I update the journal with the title, author, and a small review. This primarily is to prove to myself that I can maintain a project for more than three months. But it also reminds me of my past. It tells me where I've been, and where I'd like to go. Mostly in a literary sense, but still it's a focal point if I ever need one.

Seventh, a framed painting. This one is special because I wrote the poem that the painting is modeled after. The painting was part of an art show where artists would draw something based on poems, and writers would writer something based on paintings. It was wonderful to do and I was breathless when I saw the painting inspired by my poem. This reminds me that I'm creative, smart and a bit of a dork. I love it.

Almost last is my graduation cap's fluffy thing. The fluffy thing is so important to who I am. I dropped out of high school when I was 16. I eventually graduated from a high school in 2009 because of a wonderful program that picked me up and saved my broken spirit. Don't ever think of high school drop out as dumb, no we're just lost. I'd given up on my future, but that fluffy thing reminds me of miracles and tells of impossible hopes come true.

But my favorite (and last item) is a friendship bracelet made by a friend. It's rather simple in design. Blue and orange thread wrapped around itself and knotted to hold it in place. Too small to fit o my wrist without braking, and definitely too fragile to see the outside world, but this bracelet is my heart. It reminds me that people out there love me for me. Not what I can do for them, not because we are family, not because 'destined for greatness' but because I simply exist. Because they're glad I breathe. And while it has not had to yet, I know that love will keep me afloat in the coming storms.

My whole life fit in four plastic containers, but I know they were brimming to the surface.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

I am so horny, it's sad.

I'm a virgin.

At 20, my only experience with anything sexual is one kiss and constant masturbation. Now you might be thinking that this honorable; saving myself for someone I love, maybe even marriage.

Only problem with that idea is I'm a guy. Now you think I'm pathetic. What if I told I was gay? That makes it worse? Yeah, I agree.

Let's talk (I'll fill in your parts)

I don't think people should just fuck everyone they see. And I certainly don't like the raise in teen pregnancy. But I think we can all agree it's sad that the only sexual adventures I've had was a kiss from a girl, and she's a huge tease who kisses everyone. Plus there was no tongue and it barely lasted 3 seconds.


Well, I grew up in a small town, where homosexuality wasn't really talked about. I don't think the town would have stoned me, but we definitely didn't have any parades. Combined with the fact that I stereotypical like older, buff, men and my choices were limited. Besides, no one wants to fuck a fat 15 year old.

But when I was 16 I moved to a big city...near a military the South. Talk about a double-helping of intolerance. I only told one person, and it was terrifying. I had good reason to stay in the closet though. A classmate once said that she wanted "all the fags round up and burned." (Not to me, we were having a class discussion when she said it)

Unsurprisingly, I came back home less than a year later. Two years later, I moved to Boston for an internship. Being in a city that is well known for its gayness, you'd think I could found someone to hit this. Not so. While I was there, someone actually told me that I was "going to burn in hell." I respond with, "at least I'm having fun getting there." Went back to my apartment and cried in the bathroom until my roommate came home.

Internship ended and I was back in Small Town (refer to paragraph 5).

But location isn't the only problem. First, I'm awkward and insecure. Pretty boys make me dumb. My lips melt together, refusing to let me say anything in fear it'll sound stupid. Next, my eyes, which crave to see naked glory, stare (which makes everyone uncomfortable). Lastly, gays are worse than girls, and I'm far from attractive and I have no idea what self-worth feels like.

But it's not only that. Sex makes me nervous. Alone in my room, I can post this, no problem. Ask me about my sex life, I'll blush, stutter something incomprehensive, and quickly change the subject. It doesn't stop at talking though. I walk up two levels of my building to use a vending machine.

How is that relative?

Well, the vending machine two doors down from me, has condoms. I'm so freaked out by the idea of sex, that I only use that machine when its past 3 a.m. and even then, I run back to my door after I get my candy (usually M&Ms).

Point of all this?

I have a tentative date this weekend. He had an ad on craigslist (yes, I'm so goddamn fucked up that I had to find a guy on the internet), so if I don't post anything for a week, call the police.

He's probably killed and ate me by then, but I'm young and gay and (once again) in a gay-friendly city. That's prime news, and dying young is the only way to become a legend.