Blurb

Nothing really happened today, just church.


Did I sound sad in my last post?

I'm really not that emotionalor care at all about not getting in. I knew I wouldn't to begin with, so whatever. Besides, it's going to mess with my summer plans. I have an interview sometime this week so I have to be a people person on that day.

I'm FREAKING OUT over the SAT which is this Saturday. I know I'll do good on the MAth and Reading but it's going to be that damn Writing section that is going to get me.

I tried to do Statcounter SUnday today, but it looks like all the people who came here were from Kentucky and found my blog looking for males virginity loss stories, so whatever.


I'm off.


-Marz

We're sorry to inform you.......

The Princeton journalism program that I applied to dind't accept me. They only had room for 20 students and they had 163 applicants. the probability was not towards me, especially with that D in AP Chemistry that semester. Since they did not pick me I'm going to post the pieces I wrote to get into the program these are some of the first pieces of work that my English teacher said were written well enjoy.


Tell about an article you have read recently that has had a deep impact on you and why?

For decades-maybe centuries- girls have proclaimed they are smarter than boys. According to a recent Newsweek article, they were right. The article show that boys are in their academic performances. While females are ascending to new heights, scoring on standardized tests, becoming the majority on college campuses, and just proving-once again- they were right.
This article impacted me deeply for many reasons. First, the article mentioned that males aren’t receiving satisfactory support to be successful in school. This makes me wonder if I am receiving the right support for me to reach my goals in life. Second, the article mentioned that half of African American boys aren’t finishing high school. This made me concerned about my race, and how it needs to continue to strive towards an education. Finally, the facts shown seemed inadequate to prove the claim the proposed thesis. Much of the information provided to support the thesis was from three years ago. I’m still in need of a conclusion sentence.

Why are you interested in pursuing a career in journalism?

Journalism is a career that has an effect on people. Because words have power, despite whether they are verbalized or written. Hurricane Katrina, for example, showed how journalism can have an effect on people. African Americans were described as,”looters,” and, “ refugees,”; while their Caucasian counterparts,”found food,” or were,”survivors”.These journalist pieces exhibited the underlying racism and classism that existed, along with the stagnant waters. The emotions evoked reached a paramount around the country; from Kanye West’s,” George Bush doesn’t care about black people,” to the commiseration of a nation.
When my first article was published, I began to think about the impact it would have on the readers. How my words could plant a seed of knowledge, destroying the weeds of ignorance. I then thought about the possibilities my future articles could bring to the world. If I am able to inculcate positive innuendos, then I can make a positive impact on people. I am interested in pursuing a career in journalism, because I want to help change the world one word at a time.


I had to show off my journalism abilities by writing about something that is happening in my life, or community. It was like take a trend, person, or event and write about it.


One of the newest fashion trends in Philadelphia is also helping to keep murderers on the street. “Stop snitching,” shirts can be seen adorning the body of any person, but they are mainly worn by inner city minority youths as a message. The message is to stop snitching-or giving criminal binding information-that could help lead to the arrest of dangerous criminals. The shirts are solid colored with a big stop sign in the center of the shirt; however, unlike the normal traffic regulatory sign; they have the word “snitching” under the stop sign.

A snitch is one who tells information concerning a wrongdoing. And in a city that is about to take the title of having the highest crime rate, these people should be encouraged to give information. Many crimes are going unsolved because the police aren’t receiving any tips from witnesses. These witnesses are afraid of the retaliation they could receive from sharing the information with law officials. Therefore, they turn a blind eye to wrongdoings, enabling criminals to run amuck. The end to “snitching” was already a mindset of many, but the shirts have reinforced the message.

I asked a sociology student how she felt about the message the shirts gave, she responded: “The shirts give the impression that something will happen to you if you snitch. However, they’re backed up by law enforcers and the disability to protect them [informers]”. The backing up by law enforcers has to do with the witness protection program. Ed Rendell, the Governor of Pennsylvania, had omitted the funding for the witness protection program in his 2006-07 budget. The witness protection program helps provide safety for the witnesses of crimes. Since the instatement of the program in 2002, none of the 300 witnesses have been murdered. After the outrage expressed by Lynne Abraham, Philadelphia’s district attorney, and Tom Corbett, the Attorney General, Governor Rendell included 1 million dollars into his yearly budget. The money, however, will be placed under his administration’s control in the Pennsylvania Commission on Crime and Delinquency, instead of the Attorney General’s Office. For witnesses to feel safe to inform on crimes, the government needs to take a stand in protecting them.

Trends come and go; hopefully this trend will be leaving Philadelphia soon. The Police Commissioner, Sylvester Johnson, has initiated a new, “Step Up, Speak Up,” program that will encourage witnesses to share the information they have that is vital to solving crimes. This program along with other forces should allow people to inform on crimes without fearing for their lives.




-Marz

MALICIOUS GOSSIP!

I hate gossip, and in one conversation with my twin we talked about gossip and BLAH. He made a reference to how me telling about my family is a form of gossip and we all do it. (God I hope I'm paraphrasing him right, because he will make sure to have his words right. LOL) ( I'd do the same though.) I thought about it and I guess I sort of do gossip about my mother being sick and other things, so I had to change it to, I don't like malicious gossip. That backbiting, hurtful ,"Gurl I heard" type gossip. Whenever people bring it to me I tell them to take it somewhere else, because for gossip to survive their has to be a mouth and an ear. ( Well in some sources, there is written gossip, but whatever.)

In middle school I used to gossip A LOT. Whatever I heard I said. I just talked and talked and talked. It was a mechanism to get people from looking at me and to look at other people. A means to divert people and get them to start speculating someone else. But in the process a lot of people got mad at me, and marked me as a gossiper. Now although there are those people who LIVE for gossip and were always around me, that is the only reason why they were there. I sort of brought it over to high school, and every so often people forget and come to me, "Marcus what's the deal with.....?" Now of course I know that she got fingered in the library by that ugly boy with the big dick, but that's not my place to say. (LOL that's true gossip.) So I just say, "nothing". Gossiping isn't cute AT ALL, but I guess it's alright if you gossip about yourself: ( Different colors are different people.)


HEYY GURL, lemme tell you bout that boy MARZ

MArz, what is wrong with him? Marz. What kind of damn name is that; sounding like a damn retard.

Well I heard the bitch was born with six fingers, they cut one off and used it for his penis.

OOH what did he have before the finger penis?

HMMM. Now I'm not saying he had a vagina, but....HEHEHEHE

I heard the bitch has herpes on his left ring finger from fingering that boy Antwon. OH YES HE DOES. That is why the other day when he was eating chicken, with his fat ass, he didn't lick his ring finger. Watch him and see.

Antwon, the bitch is too ugly to get with him. I heard that he slep with Darryl.

HMMM Darryl, well they do deserve each other.

He said he was a virgin.

Virgin my ass, I tapped that just for fun. I think he touched me with his ring finger on his left hand when he was giving me head. I have to get checked out now.

Yeah, bitches like Marz are dirty.

Was he even good?

He was aight.

I heard he was great

I heard he was a damn mess.

I'd do him again.


The bitch is just so ugly.


Don't call him a bitch, he isn't worthy of that slight amount of disrespect. He is ...is.... a jaugvaulah. He needs a word made up to describe him. shahg-vau-lah. Yes that is Marz, but I'd still tap that again.

You know he says he's going to college.

That bitch ain't gone get in.

HE says he's 16

That negro is 29 with three children and past due on his child support.

He ain't gay.

He doesn't know what he is.

His head is shaped like a retarded lime.

His breath smells like hot ass.

It's probably mine.


LOL That Marz is a mess.

I heard the bitch tried to take some semen that was squirted on his face during a facial, scraped it into a jar, and tried to sell it to the sperm bank because he doesn't have testicles.

I heard that he gives blowjobs for 1.01. He says that he is helping keep the penny in circulation.


I heard he steals from the thrift store off the penny rack.

He has all them damn pennies from the facial sperm sells, and blowjobs. I don't understand why.

He dresses a MESS anyways.


You'd think someone who wears a 13 shoe, would have a bigger dick.

I thought you said it was his sixth finger that was removed.

It is, but still. I don't like his black ass, that's why I gave the jaugvaulah chlamydia.

You have chlamydia?

I slept with Nashon to catch it just so I could give it to the jaugvaulah at my 3:35 appointment. I took the antibiotc afterwards and left his ugly, no talent, fat dirty, fingered dick ass burning. LMAO

Why do you let that THING give you head?

He's kind of good at it. You know the jaugvaulah is anorexic and that is the only food he can get. The ugly skeezer jaugvaulah.

I thought you said he was fat.

UMMM. You know what I mean, the bitch can't afford food, and he supplements cum as nutrients.


That bitch ain't going to no college.

Please he barely is going to high shcool. He's out there trying to sell aluminum cans to the homeless. YOU DUMB TRICK THEY DON'T HAVE MONEY TO BUY CANS FROM YOU FOOL.

You know they say he has a blog.

It's probably titled my life as a dirty dumb black whore.

Why you gotta add black in there?

Because he is a stereotypical jaugvaulah

SEE UNNNh UNHHH we can't degrade the race like that.

The boy should've been white and helped degrade them. They ain't claiming Michael Jackson.

You know he's part white.

I can't see it looking like a damn shadow.

OOOH Gurl let's tlak about MIchael.



STOP GOSSIPING PEOPLE. ( Unless it's about yourself LOL. I'm going to be at the Penn Relays today. I so need to find me a boyfriend this weekend, so by Christmas I can handle this whole lose my virginity thing. Until then the eunuch is off.)


I heard that he thinks he's married to Lenny Kravitz and that Charles X, D-Place, and Omar all fucked him at different times on his tour.

Well the bitch is ugly. That's why I'm cheating on him now. I heard he ain't bad to bottom for either. We shoud call him over for an orgy give him a multiple facial he could earn some money and go to the Gap and buy something that isn't dirty and smell like that herped fingers of his.


SHUTUP HOES

Bye yall.


-Marz

FAGGOT!

GATHER ROUND CHILDREN IT'S TIME TO LEARN


"The term faggot or fagot, meaning bundle of sticks, shows up around 1300 in English. It almost certainly came from Old French, possibly going back to Greek phakelos. Since those bundles of sticks were mainly used for fires, it's not surprising that the term came to mean burning sticks. Then there was that nasty business in medieval times where heretics were burned at the stake. Some later cites indicate heretics who repented and were spared a fiery death had to wear a picture of a faggot on their sleeve to show what might have been their fate. But no print evidence exists that homosexuals were referred to as faggots before the twentieth century, with the origin definitely in the U.S., not Britain.


The British continued to use the words fag and faggot as nouns, verbs and adjectives right through the early 20th century, never applying it to homosexuals at any time. To fag or to be a fag was a common term in British schools from the late 1700s and referred to a lower classman who performed chores for upperclassmen. While this term was also in vogue at Harvard in the first half of the 19th century, it died out by the mid-1800s in the U.S., leaving it in use only in England. Nineteenth century Britons also heard "faggot" used in reference to an ill-tempered woman, i.e., a ball-buster, a battleaxe, a shrew. That meaning of the term continued into the early 20th century, and the usage was gradually applied to children as well as women. The relationship, if any, between faggot-as-bundle-of-sticks and faggot-as-shrewish-woman is unknown.


The first known published use of the word faggot or fag to refer to a male homosexual appeared in 1914 in the U.S. It referred to a homosexual ball where the men were dressed in drag and called them "fagots (sissies)." Ernest Hemingway, in The Sun Also Rises (1926), included the line, "You're a hell of a good guy, and I'm fonder of you than anybody on earth. I couldn't tell you that in New York. It'd mean I was a faggot." A 1921 cite says, "Androgynes [are] known as 'fairies,' 'fags,' or 'brownies.'"


George Chauncey, in his excellent 1994 work Gay New York: Gender, Urban Culture, and the Making of the Gay Male World, 1890-1940, says that the terms fairy, faggot, and queen were used by homosexuals to refer to men who were ostentatiously effeminate. Homosexuals who were not as showy referred to themselves as "queer" in the first decades of the 20th century. But the general public mainly called homosexuals "fairies." If you were in London in the 1920s through the 1940s and used the term "fag," the man in the street might have offered you a cigarette, and quite possibly that would have been the case with many Americans at the time.
All of this does little to answer your original question: How did a bundle of sticks come to mean a homosexual male? Most likely it didn't. Here we'll have to go to theory. Since I'm writing this, mine will have to do.


We notice with some words a progression of usage that morphs along the lines of "woman/girl" > "woman/girl/child" > "effeminate male" > "homosexual male." The word fairy is a good example. "Faggot" in the sense of an ill-tempered woman is another. I independently came to that conclusion while answering a general question on the SDMB. But, in a post to the American Dialect Society mailing list, Dr. Laurence Horn, professor of linguistics at Yale University, posted the progression that I just used (he did it much more succinctly than I could). Still unexplained is how a Britishism jumped the ocean in a short period of time to acquire a new meaning in the U.S. Perhaps it was an independent formation. Words happen.


As a last thought, a current notion holds that the Yiddish word faygeleh, "little bird," might have been the source, but lacks evidence other than the claim that the word was commonly used in Yiddish prior to WWII to indicate a homosexual. With the digitizing of publications allowing searching never before possible, perhaps some further scholarship will be forthcoming to help solve the mystery. "


Resources: Random House Historical Dictionary of American Slang, edited by J. E. Lighter, New York, 1994-1997.

A lil something something

HMMMMMM..... What should I write about today?


I have to take pictures, and I hope they come out right. I'm walking around the school looking crazy with a dress shirt and Dickies, and a toothbrush, tube of toothpaste, and NIVEA face wash in my hand. Everyone is giving me looks because they say my skin is GORGEOUS. People have been calling me an array of names like, " Cute", " Gorgeous", even " SEXY". I don't think I fulfill any of them. I'm not wlaking in low self-esteem, but I just don't feel that way. I think people get so caught up in beauty and being beautiful that they start to take pride in it. And last year I was ugly , so for the script to change that easily over a year it sort of shows me how beauty is so superficial and momentary. I'd rather work on my inner beauty. WHOA that one is hot. BUt me sexy, I don't know how I feel about that. Does that mean I give off a sexual aura? Does that mean people want to have sex with me? EWWW. I'm a eunuch. I don't participate in those activities, they waste time. I have things to do.


This Friday I will be live from the Penn Relays. I was there last year, and MY LAWD. All those track stars running around in their tight spandex. I will not allow them to test my eunuch lifestyle. And even if they do I will resist temptation and it shall flee from me. But I'm going to be SOOO FLY. I have to get some sunglasses, for the summer and the sun. The sun is not my friend. It comes out and makes me go crazy and makes me turn blue black, because I'm already dark, and then people start asking if I'm African or Jamaican.



SOOOo On my gaybashed post Anonymous #2 asked me some questions and my answers are only my point of view, and should only beconsidered as such, seeing as the other boys are different and probably need different things.

Can we help to make your school experience less hurtful and violent?

Well in my experiences, it seems like a lot of teachers didn't take the gaybashing seriously. Some would make it seem like it was just boys being boys. Some would then question my sexuality, and even though I knew I was gay, I was in denial and didn't want to be questioned. they mde it seem like they would only address it if I said I was gay, which I wasn't ready to admit. Since I didn't say, " I'm gay", it was like, " then why did you come to me moaning". But a lot of the teachers made it seem like, that's what comes with being gay, or that heterosexual boys were more important because of them being straight. Sort of like a Jim Crow thing and they're Caucasian and I'm the colored one. I had one teacher in ninth grade who would stop the class everytime she heard a gay slur and made it known that it was offensive and shouldn't be said. She talked about how no one knows who is gay in their family, and that in life they'll experience several encounters with gay people and should learn to at least be tolerant if not acceptive. I liked how she drew attention to the WHOLE, rather than singling one out and said, " Don't call MArcus faggot because that's wrong". Because again I didn't want people thinking or saying anything like that about me. I went to a bad school, so that is why so much violence went on. No one is doing anything horrible to me here. I get treated a different way from boys, they'll stop talking when I approach or won't sit next to me. But I'm sort of glad for that, why would I want to be friends with someone that shallow. But a lot of the violence happened outside school. Overall , I thjink the whole issue of homophobia should be addressed rather than making a spectacle of some young boy. Because even the most OUT of boys would be embarassed. MAke it known that it's wrong to judge and treat people different because of their sexual orientations, also make it known that their sexual orientations aren't important in a sense that no one is having sex in school. Because sometimes kids know that one is gay and that becaomes their defining characteristic. Now of course it is a part of them, but it shouldn't be made out to be their HUGE characteristic, them be the GAY KID. ( but again that is just me, and some kids may wlak in being the GAY kid with pride.)

Mainly I didn't like being treated different from the other boys. And some teachers would make it seem like I was handicapped. Children can sense different treatment, and that goes for babying them also. Because if I'm being babied and the rest of the class isn't I'm going to wonder wy i get this special treatment and the other kids aren't. I remember while in denial I wanted everyone to be in as much denial as I was, which is why I had such an issue with everyone always drawing attention to EVERYTHING. I wanted to be left alone to deal with my issues on my own, and when other people where always asking me it didn't allow me to lay in my place of dealing with it slowly and I was pushed to the edge of the closet to admit or not admit something.



I'll have my internet pictures in 12 days, when I get them will you, BLOGWORLD, help me choose my senior portrait? ( I hope there is a variety to choose from.)




-Marz

Report Card Day

Written Yesterday

I got my report card today and I have str4aight C's. WEll I dind't get STRAIGHT C's. because in gym and health I got an A. I always feel like I'm breaking stereotypes when I pass those classes, because gay boys stereotypically hate these classes. I also got an A in computer class. But everything else I got a C. I feel really horrible about my grades. I know I gave it EVERYTHING I had, but it just wasn't enough. I feel like I won't be able to do anything productivce with my life with these types of grades. I could see if I got a D or an F because that means there is a problem with me, but C's just signify laziness to me.

This year I'm taking the hardest classes possible so I could look good to colleges, and I'm not shining in them- none of us are. This is the year that colleges look at, and I wait until now to mess up. I'm taking five college level classes, and I feel like I won't be able to make it in college. HELL, I feel like I won't get into any college with these types of grades. I feel like I've set myself up for a fall by trying to shine so bright that I failed to glimmer. Overall I feel dumb.

Dumb, like I can't make it in a real college. If I can't deal with AP Chemistry then yhow can I take College Chemistry. Am I going to get C's in college? What kind of job am I going to get with C's in college? What graduate school is going to accpet a student with C's in college? Who wants a someone to provide a service who got a C in college? I know I want my doctors to have earned A's. Whenever I hit my low points I start thinking about how these bad grades are going to end me up on the street. I always think about how since I'm doing so bad here. I will go to a mediocre school, and not do so well, because I'm not prepared. Get a less than mediocre job and because the cost of living is so high. Have to live on the streets. Everytime I take a test and I sit there and think about how the teacher INTENTIONALLY- he says so- makes these tests for us to fail, how if I get an answer wrong this is going to end up to me being on the streets. I CAN'T BE HOMELESS, I HAVE A FEAR OF HOMELESS PEOPLE, AND I WOULD BE AFRIAD OF MYSELF. ( I have to write out about my fear of the homeless. I'm not one that is malicious to the homeless, I try to help the, but you'll see.....)


Everyone says that I write so well here, but all my essays are C's/ The teachers say they aren't good enough, yhat my writing isn't good. They say they sound too generic, they say that it sounds like I copied them, my dicion is too eloquent. THEY SAY SO MUCH. My English teacher will read an essay and tell me, " Oh it's bad", and when I ask what's wrong she tell me I already know. The only time my work was good was when I applied to the Princeton porgram. She says to me every so often that she wants me in AP englsih because I write really well, but I don't see how a good writer gets C's on his papers. All of the tests are so hard, and mae for us to fail. All of my teachers are preparing me for an Ivy League experience. I DON'T FEEL IVY LEAGUE MATERIAL. I feel dumb.

THEY SAY

All my teachers say I ave potential. They say they see something GREAT in me, something they don't see in many. They say they want to cultivate it, nurture it, challenge it. They say I'm not doing thigns at my full potential. Sometimes I may not be at full, but I feel so empty. And from experience, those using their full potential get nowhere, while those who lack any potential gets everywhere. They Say so much, but just like on Common's cd" They say, but they don't know, they say, they say, they don't KNOW."

I need to know. Know that I'm going somewhere in life. I feel like I'm not. I know I'll escape the ghetto, but to where. Isn't everywhere just a ghetto with a different crime rate? Aren't we all trapped? In a search for that thing whether it be money or love, or happiness. Sometimes I think happiness, and love are like money. Things that people who don't have always strive so hard to get. An object that society has placed a stigma that we must have them to be complete, but in all truth. WHO IS LOVED? WHO IS HAPPY? I'm not ( well happy, because I love me and so do my parents.) Have people in their attempt to replace material things with something more fulfillinf to the soul been blindsighted of the real goal? WHAT IS THE REAL GOAL?

I'm rambling and I'm off.
*************************************************************************************

However, yesterday after writing this I went to my college class. Afterwards I saw this old man. My cousin HOLY, who prophecies, said once that my angels are crazy people and ole people and they are going to start approaching me. This was a while back, and I thought HOLY was just saying words. But every so oten I think he's right. Like ON Saturday, this crazy old woman got on the empty bus and sat in front of me, when there were many variables of where to rest her hump. Sitting there randomly saying words, drinking a beer, and listening to Ashanti, she took out a bible and started quoted random scriptures. Now maybe this is just me looking at thigns really deeply, but it was a sort of sign.

Every so often as I travel to college.,. Random cole people hit on me or talk to me. They always ask about me in COmmunity and then they encourage me to keep on, because they're old and they wish they could do it over. It's really motivational to me. Every week it happens. From the 19- year old boy that was trying to hit and quit. (LOL) To the old woman who was trying to hit and quit, and questioned if I'm Brazilian. To so many others. LAst night as I exited the building, this older man started talking to me about how lucky I am for doing this now. How he wished he'd gone to college now instead of at his age. How it's hard because it's harder to learn new thigns when you're older. How my brain is younger and can soak up things, and so much more. He was one of the first people to see that I'm 16, which is strange because other people think that I'm 20 or something. This was strange to me. He went off to urinate on a wall, bit caught up to me. He asked about me taking summer courses and kept saying how he'd wish he'd done what I'm doing. HIs last statements to me really stuck in my head, " Keep doin it brother, you just like Martin Luther King Jr." He said it about five times, and each times it crashed my cerebellum harder.

When I got home, there was this book from Peterson's" COmpetitive Colleges", it was free because I am a top student, or was rather. But this morning, along with the words from the elderly, I opened the book and saw that i do qualify for many of the best schools in America. That my C's in thse AP classes are going to look better than A's in regular classes. I had a 3.8 GPA coming in this year, and since I get a muliplier my GPA should rise. SO I'm better now.


But now my sister, that's a story for another day. HEYY I HAVE THE TIME. I don't have all of the details. But basically she failed A FEW classes, and she got LOW F's at that. When my parents tried to talk to her about strategies on how to get her grades to rise, while they were alredy tempered, she began yelling, " I'm not going to do that. You don't control me". YOU DON'T SAY THAT T BLACK PARENTS, ESPECIALLY OLD SCHOOL ONES. So all I know is that my father went to beat her, and she tried to lock herself in her room, and he kicked down the door. Some other stuff happened but again, I need all the details.....



I realized the other day that I'm going to miss my INSANE family while in college. BECAUSE THIS BROTHER IS COLLEGE BOUND.


P.S. I'll answer my anonymous questions tomorrow. DANIEL E-MAIL ME.

-Marz

MY RAINBOW FAMILY

Every so often I think about if, and more likely when, I go to theraphyy as an adult how'll I'll answer the questions, " So, how would you describe your childhood?" In one word, COLORFUL. There is no descriptions of the myriad of colors that have been painted on my palette of a soul, and my family represents that rainbow. SO here's a look at some of the colors.


RED-MOM My mother just got back from the hospital from her fibroid tumor/bleeding ulcer. She's now eating healthy and if she eats any thing to salty,greasy,etc she starts to huyrt so she has to eat healthy. I am happy that she is going to be getting her body back together. She can't go back to work because her doctors put her out of comission. We don't know if she is going to be getting surgery yet, because she has been influenced by another color of the rainbow.


ORANGE- DAD. AS I've written before, my father is a hypochondriac, yet he remains unhealthy in his lifestyle. He is also addicted to herbs, and using them to treat things. He badgered me into getting this book that tells how to cure yourself of DEADLY diseases, and he's always sipping down some tea that contains the root of a plany in Africa. He took my mother to an herbologists, and the woman gave my mother an array of herbs to take so she can remove the fibroid. The herbologist said she used it and it left her body, so we're hoping that it works. But then again, they didn't get a money back guarantee so they couod just be wasting money. MEaning they still have to get the hysterectomy.


YELLOW- AUNTIE G My aunt has been calling back and forth to my mother because she is worried for her. My aunt had a tumor growing alongside my younger cousin. Whom I just found out was only conceived because the brain tumor medicine my aunt was taking raised her fertility. She had her tumor rumored and she is worried about my mother and has been calling. HEr color is light and pastel now, because she's being helpful. Unlike how she was acting during my Grandmother's cancer treatment.


GREEN- GRANDMA THEL When my mother was in the hospital she called the house, and called my mother out of her name several times. My sister was going to tell my mom, I told her not to. So instead she told my mother that, " i promised God I wouldn't tell you what Grandma said". Like that is any better. Grandma then calls my mother the other day and asked my mother when she is getting a hysterectomy. My mother told her she isn't getting it and she's going to use the herbs and see how they work. My mother then tells my mother that those herbs don't work and that they made her sick, and they made one of her friends DIE. NOw of course, to my readers, this sounds like HORRIBLE. But you have to know my grandmother. She watches A LOT of news programming and calls our house saying random things like, " Tell MArcus not to catch the bus at midnight he might get robbed". " Tell the kids not to eat raw cookie dough they could catch this new brazilian infection." "Tell MArcus to watch out at community college my girlfriend went there and started doihng drugs and now she's dead". ( Again this sounds like a watchful grandmother but you have to know her.) After my mother informed of how she is using the drugs as an alternative and a hysterectomy is going to be her last resort, my grandmother told her, " you better get that hysterectomy or I'll come over there and kick your ass". My mother then made a joke to lighten the moment. My mother asked my grandmother what herbs did she take and she tolf her, then my mother pointed out how isn't she on medication and my grandmopther noted how she's taking 12 pills for her high blood pressure. ( and the woman is still smoking.) So that MAY or may have not been why she got sick taking the herbs, and they are MORE THAN LIKELY taking a totally different thing. Later on my grandmother called my aunt YELLOW and told her that my mother is going to die. ( Because she's taking the herbs.) Which heightened my aunt's worry and now she is driving my mother insane Well both are.


BLUE- AUNT T. I rarely write about my other side of the family, because they make me father's side look sane. My father's side is loud and ghetto crazy, they are the type to argue over who stole their welfare check. But my mother's side is more refined, more Desperate Housewives with thier INSANITY. My Aunt T got pregnant with this ma's baby. I don't know why. He was a headache but I guess she didn't realize that until she broke up with him nd got a restraining order. Aunt T is very STONRG BLACK WOMAN, she's independent with her child, and lives in luxury. HEr baby's father, every so often, tries to get back into her life, and she is always saying no. She is basically rich, and has no need for money. HOWever, she got her baby's father arrested for not paying child support. Now ALL of us in the fam,ily know she doesn't need the money, and she did it to be malicious. But she sent him to jail and he got out and now hopefully he'll get it together. I hope he leaves AUn T alone otherwise she'll find a way to put him back in jail.


INDIGO- GRANDMA PASTOR. My grandmother pastor fell aftr coming outside of a Chinese Buffett, and now she is going to tyr and sue for hurting hr leg. Now I could see if she fell during the winter or something, but it's spring. She shouldn't have been there anyway. because Chinese buffets have nothing that coincide with the diet she needs to pursue to keep her blood pressure down. My grandmother is Southern and the thype that walks around with a switchblade and a bopttle of hot sauce in her ppokcetbook. They say her leg may have to be amputated. I hope not.


VIOLET- MARZ. There is mor carziness but I can't get it all, but I laughed hearing it all. Today is report card day and tomorrow is going to be a very interesting post depending on what I get. I'm currently in the procss of getting a new job. I found a good one and know the right people so I should be employed with two jobs. My second job is going to be worked on the weekends. ANd when July starts I won't be contracted to work at the library anymore.

P.S. I'll edit later, or not. WHATEVER


-Marz

Growing up gaybashed

My childhood was very bisexual. Equally split between the two sexes, male and female, in actions. One day I could be found having bike racing and kicking my opponents into oncoming traffic, playing basketball football, kickball, digging up worms, climbing over huge concrete walls in the game "Jail break’, and being loud, rowdy and screaming, mostly from alcohol being poured on skinned knees. But the next day, I could be mild mannered, playing hopscotch, or jumping rope trying to see if I could "Challenge, Challenge" myself to get past my footsies. I’d be heard screaming, "UNNH UNHHH BB, you ain’t gonna be turning my ends. You turn flick-a-did", and then having tea parties, and playing with Theresa. How many know about Theresa the African American Barbie? (LOL) Although my childhood may have been bisexual, the female sex was seen more prevalent at times. I walked to a beat in my head that my hips switch to. I gestured to give my words more emphasis, I sucked my teeth, and popped my mouth. And I grew up in a heterosexual world. Where expired gender roles dominated. And for not acclimatizing to the mind sets and actions of others, it was seldom safe and often dangerous.



I think it all started around seven. The people in my life, family, always referenced me as being "different", "special", "unique". Now of course these are wonderful things to be called, but the tones always signaled the question of what they meant. Someone new would come and meet me, and then talk to an uncle. The uncle would inform the stranger on my "difference" and that I’d grow out of it eventually.

In school, second grade, the word for me was "fruity". I was said to have the "fruity touch", but unlike the boogie touch, stinky touch, and the other million other touches they said I couldn’t pass mine on it was mine to have forever. I remember my second grade teacher, Mrs. Lewis, saying that I was a good boy and the other boys should be like me. She said they were all trying to replicate gangsters with their stroll walk. I remember one day she made me walk in the front of the classroom to show them how to walk like, "a nice young man". They termed my runway time as the"fruity walk," and kept to their strolling. Third grade was the same. Although the boys seemed to make me their project. " straight eye for the queer guy" in some sorts. I remember them trying to teach me how to stroll, it didn’t stick and took too long to walk somewhere. My first four years of education were in a private Christian school, but of course the tuition became too high and I had to transfer. While in private school my father always threatened about the treacherous conditions of public school. He always said they would shoot me, kill me, and beat me up. He always used it as a threat to make us, my sister and I, behave in private school because he always noted how he could’ve been better off with the tuition money going towards something else. But after third grade I had to transfer to public school; and although I had some rough times there, I saw that my father’s threats were idle.


Fourth Grade

I had been new to the school and the entire mind set of the kids. No longer was everyone studying the bible in class, or somehow connected to my same religion. We had different races, ethnicities, and more noticeable to me OUTFITS. In private school we had our nice preppy uniforms, but there was no dress code in public elementary school. So in going somewhere new I had to make new friends, and more importantly learn. But being so sheltered in my early life I stuck out MAJORLY. ARE YOU........? I remember one day everyone kept asking me if I was a virgin. I remember I had a slight sense of "doing it," as children often call it in their ignorance. Although my mother tried to give me a slight sexual education lesson at five I didn’t really care. I answered "yes," not knowing any better. "Doing it," seemed so grandeur to the other boys and they always talked about it, although none had it. Well two cools boys did, but they don’t matter. I remember the second "are you," coming a while later, "Are you gay?" Asked one Asian girl one day. I answered, "well gay is being happy, and I’m not sad, so GYEA". ( Do you see how naive I was to the world ?) She screamed, " He said he’s gay", someone else across the room screamed, "that explains it". What did it explain? I didn’t know. Why should I feel bad about being happy. "I’d rather be happy than sad," as I told the other kids. But somewhere throughout the year I learned the ropes, and began lying about not being a virgin like the other boys, and started answering no to being gay. Because those two were derogatory to my name and, strangely, went hand in hand because if one was 9 and still a virgin he had to be gay. It’s weird though because the whole class was lying, well not the girls, and not the two boys, but still truth weren’t valued in that type of thing. Verbal gay-bashing was very hurtful growing up, but I didn’t understand a lot of it, because I didn’t understand me. I didn’t understand why I liked boys, but I knew it was bad. I didn’t know why, but it wasn’t the norm, and only the norm is right. ( Sarcasm) The way they tore me down with their words was nothing compared to middle school.

TRANSITIONING


When entering a new phase of life, I often try to reinvent myself. Be a better person, so that I am not seen or viewed the same way by others or myself. I didn’t want to be in middle school still being called "gay," or "fruity," by other people. But I was.


FAGGOT


In middle school I was introduced to the word, "FAGGOT". At first I tried to use wordplay on it like I did with the word " gay". Telling everyone that they were calling me a pile of burning sticks and that wasn’t hurtful or logical, but it was. I didn’t want to be gay, viewed as gay, thought to be gay, nothing that was gay. I wanted to fit in, I wanted to make friends, I wanted to be included, accepted, liked, and only straight people got those things. ( Although I didn’t really know the divide of orientations, but I saw it.) I think everyone yearns for that whether openly or privately. In fifth grade I learned the power of words, everyday I was hit with a barrage of words. But I also learned how to use them. In using them, I learned to watch people, everyone has, at least, one thing that they don’t like about themselves, insecurities; and after one had called another a numerous amount of different names, ONE would always hit. I could see it in their faces. This thing may be that that person was fat, they were ugly, they were stupid, they were poor, they smelled bad. WHATEVER. But everyone had theirs.

Sticks and stones may break your bones, but a pile of burning sticks, faggot, will always hurt you. I used to come home everyday and CRY, CRY, CRY, CRY, CRY, Cry my eyes out on my pillow. My mother used to ask me what was wrong and I’d wave her off. I knew what she had said about JIM, and how I needed to pray for him because he was raped. I didn’t want her to think I was raped, and, besides, why should I be crying if I wasn’t gay? What could my parents do about the situation. I knew nothing good would come from it, so I kept it to myself.



I could never be anyone’s friend really, because it stuck out too much. I began to lie more, I fabricated stories showing how straight I was with my heterosexual sex, and since I’m a good liar it was easy. No one really believed me, but I got some friends. ( Funny how I quick I was to accept people so fickle.)


But it was still made in issue everyday, one time in fifth grade I counted how many times I was called a faggot in one day, 58 times.( One day in 7th I did it and it went past a hundred.) All the kids weren’t even there that day. I wanted to be like everyone else, I was tired of being "different," and "special". This was another sort of specialness that kept me from enjoying the fun. Because this was an immediate reason to not be allowed to enjoy anything, at any time I’d be attacked, and I didn’t matter. The gender I liked did, however. But I was in denial at ten, and really, who should be responsible to wonder about their orientation everyday at 10, or put a definite definition on it?


SIXTH GRADE


In sixth grade it picked up more. It was an automatic reason to be messed with. I had no older brothers or sisters to defend me. I had my words for the kids, but it didn’t matter. Every time I said something, or did ANYTHING, it was always said how I was being gay. "Look at the way he eats." "look at the way he does well on tests". "look at the way he drinks". " Look at this....", " Look at that". Everything about me always made some sort of twisted reference to how and why I was gay. I couldn’t prove them wrong because, first, I didn’t know, and second, I couldn’t prove a whole gang of ignorant children wrong. I couldn’t tell them that straight boys have dimples too. I couldn’t change the acronyms for the Mentally Gifted program, which they called MG, but the children turned it into "Mentally Gay". They said I had to go because I was crazy in the head, and needed help and they were going to work it out my gayness. I stopped going to my advanced classes. The kids there made fun of me too. The boys would sit in the back of the class and make pot shots at me while I learned with the girls. Everything was look at this, look at that. My mother got angry because she knew how great the program was, and it was work similar to my capabilities and level. Also she went through a lot getting my terrible school to give me the IQ test to show I qualified. She made me go and I hated it every time they said I was going to learn how to be mentally gay or how not to be. ( they never could get it quite....straight. LOL)

HOW AM I GAY?


In trying to fit in, I once inquired why it is that everyone thought I was gay. The boys in my neighborhood realized I lived near them, and since I lied so much, they thought I was just a girly straight boy. They always said, " Oh Marcus has a mom and a sister". (They never asked if I had a father, so I didn’t put that information in. Besides, they were just acting off of impulse and statistics not asking about my father.) I asked the group why everyone was always saying I was gay, their answers were: "Look at the way you walk". " Look at the way you talk". " Look at the grades you make". " Look at your clothes." " JUST LOOK AT YOU!" I began to ask about how I walked, talked, and everything else. ( Because it would be hard to mention everything they said.) I remember them saying I gestured a lot, and I said, "how will my words be emphasized without gestures?" I gestured saying that sentence and they laughed. Then I asked about my walk, and one boy said, "you walk like you have a dick stuck up your ass, you know, the faggot walk". The whole group laughed and that was the joke of the day. I found it funny how a group of straight boys would understand how one with a dick up their ass walked. I didn’t.
I think it wouldn’t have been so bad if it was only a school thing. Like that’s where it was seen or commented on. Because in my head I was doing my best to be "straight", in characteristic. ( LOL Now knowing there are no characteristics.) But if I was on the trolley I would hear someone whispering about look at me, and how I was doing whatever. They would make plans for what they’d do to me if we got off on the same stop. Thank God I never did. IN church they would always question me about SOO MANY THINGS. (This was my Grandmother’s church.) " Marcus, why you always got your hand on your hip?" "Because if I put it in my pants you’d be offended," were my thoughts as things were said, but I always just removed my hand.


GAY BASHING 101

In seventh grade I was formally introduced to the term "gay bashing," I’d never heard it before, but I had been a victim of it since the second grade. It was in a non-violence group’s presentation that I became acquainted with the term. I remember being the first one in the library and saw the types of abuse on this poster. It had words like, "Rape", "Gun Violence", and then I saw, " Gay", at the end of one line and "bashing," at the beginning of the next one. A few more lines down I saw the whole word, "Gay Bashing", and I knew I’d get some type of lash from that.


As the moderator neared the end of her presentation she asked if anyone had questions, one boy raised his head giggling, "What’s gay bashing?" and the whole room turned to me. She then talked about discriminating and harassing someone because of their sexual orientation, and in this case, a homosexual orientation. Then he smacked me in the back of my head really hard, "Look everyone I just bashed a gay". He laughed, and the rest of the boys eyes widened as if they saw a new toy, "Heyy, I want to bash the gay too," another said offended, as if he had the first go on the new bike.. As we walked back to class they all took turns in playing, "bash the gay". I struck back at them and they gave me looks that I knew better, and it’d be best to just take it then rather get jumped after school. I was like a weaker animal trying to stand up to a pride of lions, telling them to leave me alone. Bash the gay didn’t last that long anyway.


I remember there was this boy in eighth grade while I was in seventh. He was openly gay and was really feminine, again if we’re going by the outdated gender roles. I heard about his loss of virginity story in the bathroom, and how he gave this straight boy head that he liked. ( that boy was cute, but too straight to take more than head. PSHHH) I remember he would switch into our classroom every so often, and how two boys would call him random gay slurs, and he would get mad and got to punch them. And the boys would run away saying he was trying to turn them out. I always looked at him, thinking, ‘I don’t act like THAT. Why can’t I be straight’.



BREAKIN' IT DOWN


You see, being gay in the ghetto means so MUCH more than liking the same sex. It means that you are a target. You don’t belong. You shouldn’t be happy. You’re going to catch AIDS. You should be beat up. Someone raped you. You’re a rapist. You’re an abomination. You can’t catch a ball. You can’t play sports. YOU ARE NOTHING. You have no worth because you aren’t straight. You should just change it. IT JUST MEAN(S)T SO MANY THINGS. Few were true, all were heresay and stereotypes. Another thing I picked up was that it meant that you are so UGLY, so REPULSIVE to women, that the only type of person that could ever have any chance at being with you is someone as REPULSIVE AS YOU. I remember people would say, "Oh, my cousin is gay. It doesn’t make sense though, he could get girls if he wanted.". Or "He’s too cute to be gay". It placed this thought in my mind that only the ugly could be and are gay. That is why I was gay, along with the other stereotypes, I was ugly. It beat down on my self esteem which had not even begun to be built. It rotted the soil that my foundation had yet to be built upon. But in some strange way, I cheered up thinking about all the UGLY and REPULSIVE people that were out there, that I could get with. But then, I saw real gay people, and they were FABULOUS. It shattered me, because they were more FLYY than the straight boys that I was so hung over on. It’s something that I sometimes still struggle with. I’ll see someone and I’ll think that he can’t be gay because he’s too cute, or something else strange. It’s not as prevalent a thought as it used to be, but I’ll admit it’s still there.



One day I got my wish. A new student was introduced into the class, and when they introduced the new kid to the class they introduced us by our nicknames and superlatives. I was introduced as the smart faggot. But unlike the other times, one boy said, "Sike naw, Marcus he’s straight just a bit feminine". And the whole class agreed. All my years of lying had caught up and their were rumors going around the school of how much sex I had. But it felt empty. I didn’t understand it. I had worked so hard for that moment, but it was meaningless. I still wallowed in the joy of my accomplishment, it only took three years to earn.



WHY I LOVE GIRLS?


In youth many look for what they lack in themselves from others. I searched for acceptance, and I found it from girls. The boys always made references to me hanging with the girls, how I acted, and such. I always seemed to be in the groups with the girls, and the teachers always placed us together so I couldn’t change my desk. I wanted to be with the boys to not look gay, but I secretly knew I couldn’t offer anything at the boy table. No sport knowledge, I was in church on Sundays. Nothing in common. I was often used as their jester, because I was funny. In my fitting in, I stuck out more; questioning weird things about heterosexual males they found hilarious. I remember once I asked, "Why do we look at girls’ butts. I mean, if doing it up the butt is so nasty as yall say, shouldn’t we be looking at their coochies?" But with the girls, I fit in. I knew what they were talking about, we got our work done. We helped each other, we were the good tables, and they loved to gab as much as I did. I remember one day I was walking with the girls and they were singing an Aaliyah song, and I made a crude joke that would have made the boys laugh and showed off my comedic skills. But the girls looked disgusted and one turned to me and said, "it’s okay Marcus, be you. We like you for you. You don’t have to act like the other boys. That’s wyhy we hang out with you." There is a burden lifted when you know that people like you for who you are. I didn’t have to try so hard to be something I wasn’t, and not doing even a mediocre job at. I hung out with the girls all day at school, and only walked home with the boys. It was around then that I realized that I don’t really like boys (as friends), they are really dumb and immature. Girls accepted me, liked me for me, and didn’t want me to act like someone else to get acceptance. It was weird seeing as everyday was a step closer to me stepping out the closet. (Especially after spring break that year, when I almost gave that boy head. He couldn’t aim for my mouth, OH WELL. Another story for another time.) I still liked boys A LOT, but girls fulfilled something in me that was being lacked.


EIGHTH GRADE


In eighth grade I was mixed with a whole new batch of kids. I mixed in with these new boys, who, now that I look back on us, were all in the closet. I’m sure that we’ll all bump into each other in a gay club one day. I’ve seen some of them around the city with their boyfriends looking glam.


FAGGOT NIGGA

I remember one day, specifically, and it will never leave my mind. I was walking home from school. It wasn’t a long walk, maybe 15 minutes from my house. Philadelphia is very hillis in its topography. I sometimes imagine how Philadelphia would look without the bridges and buildings and was just land. It would be very beautiful with it’s peaks and crescents. I remember I was coming to the foot of one of those concrete hills, and I looked back to check my surroundings. Because when you walk in the ghetto you have to be alert to EVERYTHING. I saw this group of kids walking together, and this was nothing unusual because kids walked together. The kids that walked with me weren’t with me that day. I waited at the light and felt a fear from the crowd because even though kids walked in crowds, walking in the ghetto infuses this paranoia of everything in me. I crossed the street not thinking about anything in particular, and then I heard voices behind me and turned around, and the big gang of boys in black were close behind me. I remember I wanted to run, but if I ran, and they weren’t even going to chase me, they were then going to chase me. So it was best to walk, but add a little briskness to my step. A glass was thrown at me, a 40 glass to be more specific, and it crashed to the right of me, and one of the boys cursed in disgust at his bad aim. Then one of them screamed out, "get that faggot nigga". One boy ran from the crowd and came up to me and punched me in my jaw. I took the blow, it wasn’t that hard, I’d been hit harder before. Panic racked my mind and I ran into the street, the boy who hit me ran into the street after me with another boy. The two boys had a conversation about me while the gang of boys, maybe thirty, took out baseball bats and such, I knew some had guns. The boy who hit me grabbed my shoulder very firmly and said, "Are you alright? Are you alright man?" As the other boy commented on hitting a boy with glasses. I said, "yes," he smiled and said, "good," as a mischievous smile entered his face. He hit me again and the other boy punched me in the stomach, and I RAN. I remember they chased me and this one specific boy, who had a really bad reputation which he had to work hard to keep since he was so short, chased me down and tried to grab my book bag. I remember the older ones in the back of the group, probably 25 years old or something, didn’t feel a need to chase me. I wasn’t of importance, they liked to jump people that looked like a threat. But I was chased through the streets. I remembered I wove in and out of traffic and almost got hit a few times. Brakes sputtered to a stop and people yelled. It seemed like I was running forever and I remembered all these people just kept staring at this fat little boy running through the streets with about ten boys in black clothing chasing him down. But I remembered more vividly the police station that it happened down the street from. I remember running past about five policemen and they all just shook their heads in disapproval. Was it at me? Them? Was it that I had ran so fast and wouldn’t be caught? Cops aren’t the most accepting of homosexuals.



Instinct is defined as, an inborn tendency or impulse to behave in a certain way. Animals live their life off of instinct. Humans are animals too, although since we are the "reasoning animal," we sometimes discard instinct, and use other things, such as common sense. It is in dire situations that our inborn tendencies come to the surface and we must act on them. Running from ten weapon loaded boys evoked my instincts. I remember I was so fat, and I couldn’t believe how fast I was running. I kept thinking about had this been recreational I would’ve given up. But this was life or death, because those boys would’ve stomped my head into the pavement with their Timberland boots and then went on. It was what they did for fun, there were no extra curricular programs that gave them so much adrenaline and made them feel tough. NO, nothing validated their manhood as this. That was not the first or the last time that would happen. I was chased MANY TIMES. And every time I heard, "dur go dat faggot nigga" (sometimes nigga was replaced with BAW.) I RAN. I remember I begin to walk a mile the opposite way of my house to be safe , and then I turned around and walked a different route through alleyways, side marked streets, graveyards, and such. I was robbed multiple times, but since I never had any valuables, money, tokens, Pokemon or Yugi-Oh cards, I was often just left to get hit a few times. ( It’s weird how many kids went to the hospital over not handing over their Yugi-Oh cards and they are obsolete. It’s weird how one could be willing to KILL over a Dark Magician card, but now they have no WORTH AT ALL. A life wasn’t worth as much as a card, which now retains no value. THAT IS WHY HOODLUMS DON’T GET MBA’S.)




In gym class as I sat on my role spot the other boys would throw basketballs at my head. I would get these extreme headaches, but I never said a word. I knew what these kids were capable of. I went to one of the worst middle school in Philly. Throughout my enrollment there some kids were raped by other students. There were a few deaths, that were all marked as accidental, but everyone knew what happened. I remembered seeing the boys deposit their guns and drugs in this bush before school. ( It’s ashame that we were all 11-13 while all this took place.) Although I no longer attend, I know last month a boy jumped out the second story window and the school was closed for a day. I almost had a concussion from those basketballs every week. One time I blacked out a little on the steps. But I knew not to say anything or react, and just to get my deserved headache and take some ibuprofen later. My mother always had them.



One day the boys chased me a few blocks and I ran into a hardware store before school. The owner let me stay in their because the kids kept circling around the store. The boys kept coming in telling the owner that they weren’t going to hurt me, but whispered in my ear as they clasped my shoulder, "we are going to kick your ass". As I sat in the store thinking about why I had to live like this. I always thought, ‘I could see if I had a boyfriend or participated in some sort of gay something’. But I had NOTHING gay in my life, or to my knowledge rather. I remembered wanting to not be gay SO GREATLY. My overall thought, was how I needed to be accepted to one of the better high schools I had applied to, so I could escape this hell, and how all those kids were going to be nothing and I’d be something. The last thought always made me happy, although I know one will become a great rich rapper. I left the store around noon and headed to school. I was so excited when I received my high school acceptance letter, and my first choice had accepted me. I knew it was across the city and I’d be nowhere near the same people.



TRANSITIONING AGAIN


As I said before, in going somewhere new I like to change myself for the better. Although that summer I finally acknowledged I was gay in the mirror and broke down crying and slept a whole day, I still wanted to change it. They said in church you could, although three years of praying hadn’t had any effect. I remembered that summer I was ready to come out and be me, or so I thought. I walked around with this rainbow ankle bracelet, and my mother didn’t know what it meant. I had this fantasy about meeting some boy that summer, it didn’t happen.


I started high school grouped with the kids I went to middle school with. We all were new and weren’t going to branch too far from what we knew for a good while. High school was a new experience and I liked it. I remember there were lesbians at the school, and everyone was so nonchalant about them. I was going to come out, but didn’t. I remembered the lesbians approached me and tried to welcome me, and get me to admit it. But then one day as I was getting closer, and one of the lesbians who tried to make everything seem so open and safe started to gay bash me to her straight friends, and I recoiled back up.


Through all of this, I stayed open. Although I tried to be like others, it never happened, and I always shined through. I was still loud, My wrist was still broke, and I still switched. I talked to my middle school friends, who were only there for their own safety purposes, about how ugly our uniforms were and I was going to design some new styles for mine. What new thing I was doing to lose weight. I was just me and somehow I wasn’t crushed.


Until.....

One day as my group all walked to school together these men behind me starting screaming these gay slurs. Some of the people in my group starting laughing at what they were saying about me and I paid them no mind. I remember I complimented one of my girlfriends micro braids. I picked them up telling her how cute they were, and then said, " But ohh gurl, you need to soak them in some oil or moisturizer so they don’t look dry." No shade, just friendly advice. Then one man screamed, "SHUT the F&^ UP you faggot." Then said to his friends how he should beat me up, and they started talking about it. So I cricked my neck to look at him, and he grabbed the bottom of his shirt and acted like he was yawning. His big black t-shirt lifted showing some slight abs and his happy trail, and I saw the gun in the elastic band of his basketball shorts. My eyes bulged and I turned around as his friend started to motion towards it with his left hand. I wanted to run, but I knew that wouldn’t be wise. Everyone would want to know why I was running, and start saying whatever. Also, bullets travel faster than what I could run. So I just walked up and climbed some steps. But I remember as I turned from the gun and dropped the micro braid from my hand I felt something literally DIE inside of me, and it fell sporadically to the bottom of my stomach. I remember I tried to stop switching as much as possible. I remember I lowered my wrist which seemed to lead me, and I didn’t say another word.


After that I slowly became introverted. I no longer tried so hard to make sure I graduated popular, or was just me. I stopped going to lunch with all the other kids, and started hanging out in the library. Everyone noted my CHANGE. How I had become unusually quiet. Everyone started asking about where I was at lunch. Because although I wasn’t allowed to be their friend, the "faggot," was always good for a laugh. Because we’re born with quick wits and quicker tongues.


One day in gym as I sat on the foul lines of the basketball court and read a book, a boy came over to me and told me that I was sitting like a girl. I didn’t know him, he didn’t know me, but he made sure to tell me and then call me a faggot and move on. I had my knees up to my stomach with my t-shirt pulled over my knees and thighs, because we had to wear booty shorts like in the eighties and my thighs were HUGE. It was really cold in the gym so I went to close one of the open windows. I went to the other side of the basketball court, where one of the boys was standing on the foul line. I went behind him about 2 yards and he stared at me quizzically. I smiled back at him really friendly. I jumped trying to close the window and it didn’t happen, too short. I tried a few more times but it didn’t happen. I shrugged my shoulders and all the other boys were staring at me. I remember as I walked pass the boy on the foul line, the other boys congregated around him asking him what I was doing. He said he didn’t know. Another boy said that I was trying to turn him out and should watch his ass in the locker room. I scrunched my face thinking about how ugly that boy was. I DO HAVE STANDARDS HETEROS.


The whole male ratio of the gym class stopped changing with me. We never got naked but they didn’t want me to try anything. There were two boys who thought it was foolishness and said they talked to me and I was cool. (Not in popular, more like I wouldn’t rape them.) I remember one gym period, the gym teacher noticed the whole crowd of boys standing outside the gym room as they waited for me to change. He asked what the problem was, and one said I was a faggot and was trying to turn them out. After I came out the teacher took me aside and talked to me about sexual harassment and he didn’t believe I was "like that," but if I was and it was true that I would be suspended and maybe expelled.


As I went through a LOT of this I always wanted to tell my parents, but I always wondered how they would react to this. I couldn’t let them know I was gay, but I couldn’t let them know about all the harassment I did experience. I always felt they would not look at the subject at hand, but scrutinize me, and maybe have me on the street for some boys saying I was trying to rape them. Now of course this is all only how my mind processed this all, but I couldn’t deal with what would happen. I remember CIRCLES, the boy I talked to when I pre-came out, always told me I should tell a school counselor. I didn’t want to because I didn’t want anyone to know. I thought that the counselor could do nothing but call my parents and tell them I was gay and that I was being falsely accused of planned rape. I allowed myself to be subjected to EVERYTHING because I felt that my parents would have a greater issue with me liking boys than me being chased home. I constantly thought about how easier it would’ve been to deal with by telling an adult. But I was so used to handling EVERYTHING ALONE that I thought no one could help me. How could they help me when I had to think of ways to get home safely, or how to protect myself. WHAT COULD THEY DO? I always thought about calling one of the Bully hotlines and leaving an anonymous tip, but who else was gay bashed besides me. So if they got suspended, they would know it was me. Also, I was in such HUGE self hatred of being gay, so much underlying denial and doubt that in admitting that this was getting to me or telling would, somehow, be admitting I was gay. Which was something I was not ready to admit to other people. ( That summer was just about me getting some.)


So I just changed in the bathroom. I became really quiet and my whole personality changed. I was tired of being open, tired of telling people what I thought for it to be scrutinized, for it not to be valued because they thought I had a boyfriend. I remember one day while on the trolley coming home with one of my middle school friends, we saw another boy we went to middle school wtih. WE all conversed on the way home about school and things, and near the end of the conversation he said to me, " Marcus, you’ve really changed. You’ve really become calmer and more quiet." And the boy I attended high school chimed in with, "yeah hasn’t he. He’s really mellowed out." But the other boy wondered what had happened.


Tenth grade was just the normal things. I remember one day, one of the couples were going around asking which couple made the couple cute, or something on those lines. I remember the girls asking specific people in the class. I talked to her every so often so she called my name and asked who made the couple cute. Her boyfriend then grabbed her arm and said, " don’t ask him, because if he says me I’ll have to beat his faggot ass up". I went back to me book, and everyone laughed or looked to him with disdain, because he didn’t have to be so loud with what they thought.



Self Reflection


There are SOOOO many things to say. I could write so much more about the things that happened. I’ve experienced so much, and I haven’t even begun in anything gay yet. The last time I was called a faggot, well " faggot ass pussy" to be exact, was last Thursday. This boy was staring at my HOT outfit, and since I have to get over that mind set sometimes that one is too WHATEVER to be gay I stared back as I left the library for my lunch break, thinking he was flirting. I entered on the other side closer to him and he stared more, and so did I. He finally whispered it to his friend aloud. I wanted to blow him a kiss to piss him off, but though it’d be wrong.


It doesn’t hurt anymore, it really doesn’t. Not only because I know that some people have faggot synonymous to gay, but because I’ve been called it so many times it’s lost its meaning. I remember I used to be called it so many times that I started to respond to it, or when I heard it I turned around reflexively thinking whomever was talking was talking about me. I laugh at ignorance, because to pay it mind would be a waste. Feeding into ignorance is, literally, like eating garbage. And I desire things that are nutritious to my mind, body, soul, and spirit.


I really miss who I was. That loud boy that got attention and looks. I had GREAT friends and experiences. Sometimes I wonder if that boy was really who I was, me bing fake, or just an immature part of who I was that I grew out of. I try to reclaim it often, but I fail miserably. Because I feel like I allowed PEOPLE to get the best of me. I feel like I’ve changed who I was to accommodate someone else, that doesn’t matter in my life. I feel like I’ve digressed in my growth, because I was so VIBRANT, VIVACIOUS, and VOLUPTUOUS, and now I’m slightly tarnished.


I’ve become the definition of an introvert, I lack a personality. I talk to myself sometimes. Although readers may say I have all this personality, this is all me here in my head. The side I don’t show to others for a fear of what they may say. I was vulnerable for too long and in my vulnerability I was hurt many times, but I always stayed vulnerable for those who valued my vulnerability. Because there were those who valued me being me. But after having your life threatened, experience major trauma, YOU CHANGE.


I used to be so.... I can’t even think of the word, but it was hot. But now I view myself and I’m sort of displeased with what I see. I’ve become what, in my younger days, I hoped to never become. I’ve lost that FIRE in me. I’ve lost my openness. I lost a part of me that died and I can’t rebirth it. I’ve become this boring quiet child. I read a lot of books. I don’t have fun. I WRITE ABOUT SEVEN PAGES EVERYDAY. I’ve become that boy that people ask me to repeat my words louder, because I speak too low. I always wanted to be one on the move, always moving, exploring, and experiencing. I never wanted to become that person who wasn’t up on his cartoons. I never wanted to become one of those people who read the newspaper everyday. I never wanted to become boring, and that is how I feel. And even though I know that people are going to comment on my personality, you don’t know my personality, because you haven’t met me. I’m really quiet, observant, and watchful. I live vicariously through others. And although I can see the plus sides to who I’ve become, I don’t really like it. I wish to partake in my teenage years which I don’t do. I wish to be with people my age, but in being who I’ve become, I can see the how foolish and juvenile their behavior is and it turns me off.


I guess because even though I was bashed SOOO MUCH. I had a set of GREAT FRIENDS, but in the loss of my personality, my introversion, they sort of fell away. WE still talk, and I’m not mad at them because we still talk. But it’s not the same. I think about how that part of me would react to things that happen now. I think about how if I hadn’t allowed others to threaten me into this way of being how much more of a person I would be. I think about all the boys I used to talk to, how I used to get hit on SOO MUCH. Just how much MORE of a person I was, and how I feel that in maturing I’ve become nothing. Although I know I have GREAT QUALITIES, I lost some of my better ones. I was the STAR. I was the one that ALWAYS STOOD OUT. I was the one to get noticed, or make one notice me. I just feel that part of me was just a great part and it’s gone and I miss it. I think about even how last year at my job I wasn’t as introverted as I am now, and I always left a smile on the patrons’ of the library face. But now the same people come to talk to me, and I don’t have it in me anymore. I don’t have the same AURA around me. I’ve become this totally different person. I know it’s growth, but I don’t like it.


HETEROPHOBIC


My twin, Charles, and I often talk about my slightly heterophobic comments. I make them often referencing to how stupid straight boys are, and how they are a nuisance. (As well as should have their butts cut off to help the flat backed bottoms in need, and too poor to afford the butt implants they have their eyes on. LOL) I think as a result of my treatment I am slightly heterophobic. I have FEW straight male friends, and I never let them too close, and never give them as much play as girlfriends. I see a majority as a waste of time in investing in, because they lack maturity. Also, I feel like I’ll never be viewed as a friend, because in the past all I was, was one to offer a good chuckle. (Well a great one from me.) Of course I’m not walking around screaming heterophobic slurs, although I think some need to be made for certain occasions. I respect every one the same, but when I see a straight boy, the first thing that pops into my mind is not, ‘ let me go make friends with him’. I’d rather read a book. Truthfully, I feel they have nothing valuable to offer me, and although that may be wrong and whatever. I FEEL THAT WAY. And I’m entitled to those feelings. But the few straight male friends are GREAT. (There's a whole post about that to come too.)


It really hurt me that I felt that I wasn’t able to tell my parents what I went through because of what I thought/knew would happen.


People in the ghetto are always questioning the sexual orientation of others. They are always so curious to whom you’re sleeping with. But then they criticize when you give a truthful answer. They want to discriminate and treat you different make you feel as though you are nothing. The discrimination does get to you. Many often say that people don’t choose to be gay, who would choose to live such a hateful way. I think this is a display of that statement. I was treated HORRIBLY, GUTTER, and DESTRUCTIVELY off of STEREOTYPES. Because as I said, I never said I was gay. I didn’t have a boyfriend. And in the other boys always trying to get me to admit I was gay by flirting with me, and those who were really flirting with me, I always thought about how they talked about me BUT HAD NO PROOF. Everything was circumstantial and I got the taste punched out my mouth for the thoughts off others. And even though it was true, no one should be harassed for what sex they choose to reach an orgasmic climax with. I NEVER WANTED TO BE GAY. I never wanted to accept, and even in accepting it, there are those, who’re ignorant, constantly on their personal missions to spread their ignorance. If they can live a day in my shelltops then they’d see, but they can’t. Their better off in their nice Prada shoes. (One day I’ll wear Prada. LOL)



And now, people still question if I’m fem or masc. I personally don’t believe in gender roles, because they are SOO outdated. My grandfather told me once I was doing, " women’s work," for doing dishes and cooking dinner. HE WAS A WOMANIZER. So should I value the word’s a bigoted womanizing man to try and grasp some remnants or lost masculinity by fixing a car. I THINK NOT. (God rest his soul.) Getting into gender roles is another post in itself, but the mean NOTHING. I have yet to talk about the ones who hit on me in middle school. But living in the current set gender roles is like living in Jim Crow, and I’ll be damned if I’m eating out the back window of McDonald’s, or treated differently because of how I walk.

Mr. Cent, make several homophobic comments. He said in one of them about how gay people just don’t have what it takes to make it in the rap game, because they aren’t tough enough. ( Or something on those lines, I don’t feel like looking for the link.) However, EVERY GAY BOY I HAVE MET that falls into today’s standards of femininity has said once while I’ve been around them, " Gyea these boys get too hype and I have to put them in their place." I know SOOO many gay boys that can FIGHT, hear me, FIGHT, because they had to., and HAVE TO. Lucas Dawson is a GREAT example, he fought back. And the way that the gay community expressed things to me is that the "stereotyped" fem ones are so WEAK, and the masc ones are so tough. But the "stereotyped" masc ones are the ones, most times, hiding themselves amongst the crowd not having to experiencing any harshness, or as much. ( I don’t know it’s difficult to say. I’ve never been stereotypcially tough and butch, or DLing in a croup of thugs.) ( Although I was in denial in a group of boys, but hmm....I don’t think it’s the same.) I want to learn how to FIGHT FIGHT, because throwing punches while running from a group of boys is not fighting. I’ll learn one day, I personally want to get a black belt in something, but whatever. When ignorance like this is said, I laugh at it the same way I laugh when I’m called a faggot.


I know that I’m going to think of more later, but in publishing I (AGAIN) receive some sort of closure. Maybe I’ll write a Growing up Gaybashed 2, I know I have enough material for one. But right now I’m off. But I hope that everyone stays safe in their happenings, and ALWAYS STAY TRUE TO YOU. Don’t let people batter and crumple you to fit the shape they want you to fit into


It doesn’t feel good at all.



-Marz

....2

I just took a test…I know I failed…and that’s why I’m going to be on the streets…there is logic to my madness… I just don’t feel like explaining it… but when I’m homeless I know it’ll be because I failed that American History test… I want to know why my teacher lectured a whole period yesterday about the franchising of restaurants in the fifties… he always talks about random stuff… it somehow pertains to the subject … but it’s never on the test… it won’t be on the AP test… which is a day before the SAT… I haven’t even begun to study for them…I don’t want to be homeless…



My father came home last night at 11…I caught the bus he was driving… it was fun… he made me do dishes at 11… I didn’t get any sleep…I found a new way to school…it gives me more reading time…I have four hours of travel time daily…My stress level is insanely high today…I’ve been having mood swings…Last night… I flipped out… I was throwing the dishes around… and then started running around in circles…I wish my bed had springs… I want to jump on it



I’ve been feeling like my life is hopeless… it’s not going anywhere…it won’t go anywhere…I’ll end up as nothing… I don’t know why… people say I’ll make it…I have the personality to…I don’t have a personality… I’m very introverted… I need to finish tomorrow’s self revelation…it might be up later…



I was thinking…about the high point of this week…month… and it’s playing with my game boy… the electronic one… LOL… the other one is so BOUGHIE and an eye roll… I’m such a loser…THE HIGH POINT OUT OF ALL OF APRIL IS PLAYING POKEMON ON MY DAMN GAMEBOY…they say I need some dick… I want to become a eunuch…asexual…something… is there a pill to totally get rid of one’s sex drive… I mean… I guess a climax would be great… but afterwards is the falling actions … and conclusion …and the conclusion will be nothing positive…I forgot to add ass…everyone is so hell bent on being portrayed as a top or bottom… I don’t give a damn… folks who know about me keep asking…AFTER THE EXPIREMENTS ARE DONE I’LL TELL THEM MY CONCLUSIONS…damn



I’ll be bad at both…last only 3 seconds…on a good day… today is a good day… I’m trying to enjoy it… but my ass has cellulite… and my dick is little…LOL… but big penises are only visual stimulus… and hole stretchers…why are people so weird about tight holes… would you rather want one the you can stick your head in… maybe tight holes are good… I wouldn’t know… then it’d be all over the circuit…”that bitch Marz has cellulite a little dick and lasted three seconds” … they say pineapple juice makes your cum taste good…my cum is probably all wrong…too splashy…or splashy… slow…thick…watery…yellow…I need to get checked out…cum…semen…seamen…sailors…Popeye the sailor man…I’ve never been on a boat…like an ocean one…it’d be boring…going up and down…all that ocean…I like whales…dolphins tasted so good in tuna fish…the good old days…damn the ASPCA…that’s where we got our new cat…I don’t like him at all… I do like my spinach though…



All this from a future eunuch…why do older dudes always hit on me…like fifty years old…the perverted kind… and the twenty and up group… they are full of mess… not all of them… but the better majority… I would use a percent…but my math skills are going to have me on the street too…I mean…I could see having an old school dude…some Barry White…but they would just be for that QUALITY OLD SCHOOL DICK…but they’d just be a walking dildo for me… complete with the dickhead…as in stupid ness…but the guys in their twenties… it’s like , “are you hitting on me because you think I’m this naïve little boy and you think you can get over on?” … COME CORRECT… I sure don’t… its yellow and splashy… LOL…today is insane…schizophrenia runs in my family… I hope we never cross paths… I don’t know…my father said I need someone older… said I have an old soul… screw that… everyone is always saying that… and that I’m really a grumpy old man…I don’t know… I just don’t want to catch herpes… and I want my first time to make me smile when I write it up…is that wrong? …if it is I’d rather be wrong… Gyea It’s going to be hard being a eunuch…


They say Jesus is coming back in the rapture…the world is going to end… I hope it’s today… I’m ready to go…this life has nothing for me…except stress… and lack of sleep… I’m not ending my blog people…whatever… I like that John the Baptist… in the river of Jordan… that’s nice…water…fish…food… I want a grapefruit


In between the dots…is where my mind is… I need to find it… but there are too many… I need a break…Oh look at that over there… no one can see it…




-Marz

Cursed to write

I’ve been wanting to end this blog lately. Discontinue, or delete it. A bad habit others say I have, deleting my writings. I really don’t like writing. Which is weird seeing as I write so much. It’s a curse, and I need a shipment of four leaf clovers. Some say that they like writing because it is free, and not definite like math. There is no right or wrong answer. However I think writing has more rules than math, and is more restrictive than math. But writing is still expressive, and that is what powers the curse. When I don't write, I feel like something is wrong in my life.


In writing I’ve found a place of self expression. Everything else, to my parents, is to loud or wrong. Although, if they found this blog, they would end it immediately. I keep wondering why do I publish, I could easily just write unpublished-I sometimes do. I mean as much as I love the readers, I love me more, and I would have to do what was right for me. However, I always think about me at around thirty. Whether I own a company, or live on the streets, I still see myself coming to this blog and laughing and reminiscing on my teenage years. I know that I will feel a certain way reading about me then and see how much I’ve grown and changed. I’m ultimately cursed to bless myself later. (But this isn’t such a bad curse. There are good ones. Although curse has negative connotations that come with it. OH WELL.) But I feel so............


WHAT DO I FEEL?

I don’t think I’ve felt any emotions lately. Last week I experienced a lot of pain, but pain is just a nervous system response sent to the brain. I may have laughed, but I often wonder if laughter is, or should be, associated with happiness. Some of the funniest people are some of the most sad ones emotionally, and personally. My feelings have disintegrated and all I feel is a heightened and lowered stress level. High is the norm. Older people say, "Boy shutup! You don’t know stress yet, wait ‘til.....". ( Enter their own issue I don't care about.) This makes life look distasteful, uncomforting, pointless in continuing, and, overall, stressful. But I try to ignore the levels, they are like the homeland security levels to me. I also feel tired, lacking sleep. This lack seems to add like deficit, and I’m getting deeper in debt.


I keep trying to refocus my lenses, eyes, and outlook on life. But between up close and meticulous and far away procrastination, I miss it. It being balance. I can’t find balance, it. It is lost between many factors in my life. I think between work and play is where I need to find it. I don’t play, it, balance, is against the rules. I find playing to be juvenile and immature. And although I scoff at juveniles and their sophomoric ways, sometimes, it’s strangely amusing. Should everything have balance though? I think I’d like good to tip the scales on bad. Love on hate. Happiness on sad. I don’t know exactly. It makes me think maybe I shouldn't have it, and I should be stuck with work.

This bit of insanity was written in a WEIRD place yesterday after school on the train.


Yesterday was REALLY STRANGE. I don’t know why. I needed some me time, and since I’m not allowed to listen to the "devil’s music," I had to go to Tower to hear Heather Headley sing about me time. As I was listening this HOT GAY BOY walked past. (Hot in like fashion and hair.) And yesterday I really was interested in dressing better, or bring myself up to the next notch. (Someone needs to make a TEEN GQ.) His outfit and accessories were FLYY, and he had this mohawk and his looked right, unlike SOO MANY OTHERS trying to rock one now. So he kept prancing around me and staring at me, and grabbing cd’s near my butt, but his eyes were shielded behind his shades. He finally grabbed this JoJo cd from in front of me. Now JoJo did make a good cd, but no one is buying a JoJo cd NOW. Then these two transexual men were walking around staring at me. (They both get four points for realness on a scale of ten.) Then this other man was walking and we locked eyes, then he went to the listening station right in front of me. So then he started looking at me, and then he turned on SOMETHING. And he started gyrating and rolling his hips and he turned around, his butt towards me, and he was trying to get my attention, and I just went back to my music. I was mad I locked eyes with him. HE stood dancing around riding the air like a big penis, or a pole. ( Either or) And then the other gay boy is walking around me, as well as the two transexuals, and the other gay man is air humping. I started thinking, " WHAT IN THE WORLD IS GOING ON?" I couldn’t understand it. I designate certain days to look ugly and just a hot mess, it makes the boys stay away, and four were looking at me and I didn’t even comb my hair. IT WAS INSANE. I felt like I was in some type of weird universe or something so I pinched myself, especially since I was feeling the certain way before.


I left the music store, and went to my extra curricular, and as I stood in the the elevator and saw my reflection in the steel I realized, I LOOKED A MESS. My shirt is stretched out from being pulled over my HUMONGOUS head, and then it revealed my long neck, which resembles that of a Mongolian tree lizard. ( Why must I always be difficult? Why couldn’t I just say giraffe? LOL) It’s strange, because on my cute days no one looks at me.


Having a boyfriend would be so much stress on my life, and I wouldn’t be able to see them EVER. It’s JUST TOO MUCH, and that’s why I don’t have one. Also it’s just to strenuous, I don’t have time to be boo-loving someone all around the city to break up next week. I need an ugly rich boy with low self-esteem though. He can pay me to look nice and I can drop him a compliment every so often. I NEED MORE CLOTHES. That is my summer goal dress better, and acquire more clothes. But I don’t have money now, and my summer job hunt starts the FIRST of May. ( Because they can’t hire me until after the 30th of June.) I know I’m a mess for saying that, but sometimes I just feel that way. Maybe it’s the people in my life saying I have " boy hooker looks", and it went to my head especially one girl who said, "Yeah, you could definitely work the companion thing if you didn’t want to sleep with them." But the ugly rich boy would eventually want some type of sex, and then the money would stop coming because I’m not sleeping with whoever he may be. (I know I sound like a gold digger, but everyone looks for an easy job every so often. And what is easier than telling a boy his shoes are cute every so often? LOL)( OMG If I meet any of my readers, please don’t think I’m this big gold digger, I am a very honest worker. That is why I’m looking for a job now.) ( But there are so many gay men that would pay me to look nice and call them, "cute". SIGH LOL)( Easy money with no taxes.....I’m SLOWLY digressing.) But I do need to work the looks before the fade with age. Although they do seem to be getting better.


Next Tuesday is picture day, but I’m going to be taking the pictures for my senior portrait, the picture that will go into the yearbook and the college wall. I AM FREAKING OUT. I don’t have a pose picked out. How I’m going to do my face. Will I smile? Will I look serious? I wanted my picture to be FIERCE, and STUDIOUS/SEXY. I want people in future classes to see my picture and say, " MY LAWD, I MUST FIND HIM( AND PAY HIM TO GIVE ME A NICE COMPLIMENT. LOL)". But I’m going to take my glasses off because they always glare. And I’m a little sensitive about my face without my glasses. My father beat me in the face with a belt once, and the healing of my face made it kind of ugly. (Another story for ANOTHER TIME. LS) I get over issues like that by taking pictures of myself, which I did in my last photo shoot. SHOWED MY FACE RAW, and everyone was so nice saying I was "cute" and such. But I don’t know, I have to get a face together. I have good skin so if I show up with a pimple I will be extremely livid. I hope the pictures are digital, because I need to see what is happening for the yearbook. I need to go practice RIGHT NOW.


Whatever you do, be the best at it, that’s what my mother used to say. She said, ‘if I become a whore, to be the best whore out there’, and I DID.- Pearls of wisdom from one of my Grandmothers

P.S. UMMM. People you can comment now. I think I said don't last week or something. GOOD FOLLOWING DIRECTIONS.

P.S.P.S. Yesterday, I was saying I need to gain some muscle not lose weight. I don't want to be a toothpick boy, that's why I gained some when I got down to 168. ( I enjoyed that week. LOL)


-Marz

Why I dislike the school nurse?

Alright, I'm sure everyone can remember there school nurse. They usually are creepy, ugly, or both. They make you wonder did they receive their medical degree from one of those carts that sell bagels in the morning., and so many other things.

My middle school, was rumored to be a child molester. And he was also rumored to finger his ass. I didn't want him touching me (He looked like he did, and he always wore the gloves the colon people use lol), plus he always gave you ice. Your head hurt, ice, everything was, "here's some ice". Can you learn how to diagnose people? My lord. I came there twice once, when I was pushed into a wall, and he gave me ice, and when I needed iburofen, and another time when someone blew pencil sharpenings in my eye (on purpose). And he gave me ice.

Well, in high school our nurse is so very different. My occurences with her: First in freshman year, she called everyone down to her office at different times. So she could get our medical records and stuff. After she checks my stuff out, she hands me this paper with all these help groups. For if you're suicidal, or think you have a STI or something like that. She goes over it, and she gets to the back, and she says, "well you can call this number if you get pregnant" She then looks at me, "Oh wait, I guess if you get someone pregnant then".

SHE HAS ISSUES WITH PREGNANCY

She asks if you're pregnant for any little thing. And it's not just girls, she has asked several boys if they are pregnant. Girls will come to her saying, "I have cramps", and she'll ask, "are you pregnant?" HOW THE HELL ARE THEY HAVING MENSTRAUL CRAMPS AND THEY'RE PREGNANT? And simple things like their head hurting, or their toe hurting, then having their hand smashed in the door. "Are you pregnant? You look like you've been having sex." I'm not making any of this up. I have seen it all with my own eyes.

The real kickers

Alright last year she calls me downstairs to her office. I get there and we are doing eye exams. She then tries to give me this half baked eye exam hen tells me that my prescriptions are wrong. WOMAN ARE YOU AN OPTOMETRIST? She then kept requesting for my eye results, saying things like," my lord can you see at all". Alright then, she calls me down another time in the year, she gets my height 5'11 ( then, and my weight 204. Alright I'm was kind of big, but I wasn't like husky fat, can't walk a mile without sounding like I have asthma. She then gets my BMI, we sit down and she says. ( Prepare yourself for this convo, my tone was extremely bitchy since I don't like her.)

N: You know Marcus, you're obese.
M: Am I?
N: Yes, you are. I'm putting you on a diet. So you can lose some weight.
M: Are you now?
N: Yes. there are support groups and other camps you can go to. Look at this brochure (She was trying to sign me up for some fat camp, and this other aerobics program)
M: Are you trying to send me to fat camp?
N: Oh no it's not a fat camp.....oh well it is, anyways you should go there. ( How would I look at fat camp with these 500 lb. kids and I'm 200 lbs. they would treat me mean because I was the skinny kid right?)
M: I don't need that.
N: Well, (she refers to the BMI chart) your weight is here, I would like it to be here. ( She emphasizes with the pencil, as she draws it down the wieght part.)
M: What! you want me to lose forty pounds. I can't do that.
N: That's not forty pounds, it's like twenty.
M: I can do simple math, you want me to be 160. I don't want to be some skinny toothpick boy.
N: OH look that is forty pounds, but you can do that.
M: NO I CAN'T
N: why can't you?
M: I come from big people, it's in my genetics that i'm big. I'm not going to reach that weight.
( I mean everyone belives that they can reach the same look. We can't we all have different facial structures. Why can't we realize that some people store fat, some people don't. The same way some people store fat in different places, all my stuff goes straight to my thighs, and ass.)
N: Well, you know the death age is getting higher, like the eighties, seventies. But for you it will get much lower.
( You had to hear her tone. The heifer basically told me that I'm this nasty fat blob and I'm going to die anyday.) I was so furious.
N: She then tells me about a diet, and blah blah blah.

This did nothing positive for my self-esteem, I was planning on weight training. But I wanted to do it for the right reason, not because, I wanted to look a certain way to receive attention.

I told my friends, they all laughed saying she said the same thing. My mom told her off, and it became the joke for like up until now. Oh how she's crazy and she told me that I would die if I didn't lose 40 pounds.

Later that year, in gym they changed up and made us run around the school twice. I almost died, we all almost did, I felt so out of shape. So this summer I went out and ran around my neighborhood. So I lost the weight and now I'm around 180 pounds, and 6'1. ( Of course I'm rounding the half inch up, but why shouldn't I?) And I also realized that I can have a nice sexy body. But my body looks kind of crazy right now. My lower body looks alright, although my ass seems to rest behind my knees, but my upper body is so scrawny and crazy. I'm on a missionto gain some muscle, but it's sso hard. This young body doesn't want to do such a thing, and whatever.

BUt since my mother is resting now, my father isn't cooking. He keeps buying these easy to cook foods, cup a soups, deliu meat, and I'm not going to gain weight in nice places. It never goes to my arms straight below the belt.

I'm off.


-Marz

Unwordy

Today isn't feeling to wordy for me. I'm getting back to people's blogs. I'll catch you.



-Marz

EASTER 2006

This Friday coming up is another self-revelation. Sometimes when I write out the things that have happened in my life, I begin to think, "maybe I’m putting to much. Maybe I’m disclosing something that ought not to be said. Maybe I shouldn’t be so vulnerable in this post because someone can easily hurt me’. But then I get e-mails from people around the world saying how much my posts have helped them through some of their own personal traumatizing events, and I feel like Oprah. Like I’m helping people and I love it. But this one is going to be interesting to say the least. I feel so weird, because this week the drama has been high and some new people have come to my blog, and I think as a future gay black man I aspire to be (WHOA first time saying it in blog world) FABULOUS in every post. And this week lacked fabulosity.WHATEVER.

I’m back folks, and I’m mad that I was so pushed off my planet and floating in space. I have to be me because there is no one else who will do it or do it and stay as close to sane as I do.(LOL) This week I saw that I slipped from my uniqueness, my quirkiness, my individuality. But I fell back in love with me, and do I love me.


I think self love, high self esteem, and high self worth aren’t things that can just be acquired and stay the same. They must grow and be nurtured because stagnant things poison and die. I thought that I could just obtain those things and they would just stay and forever be with me. But I am a growing boy, growing into a man. ( OMG that sounds so invigorating.) And if I have the same self esteem worth, and love as I did as a 16-year-old boy. ( Because that is what I am, A BOY.) Then that is truly sad, and I’ve heard to fall in deeper love you have to fall out of love and get a deeper grasp. You cannot build an improved building over an already existing one, you must knock down that building. And this week I was knock down and beat up, but I’m rebuilding and I LOVE the new improvements.


Is it just me, or do any of the other bloggers have like a comfort zone in blogs they visit. They’ll visit this one or that one but they are afraid to venture off. I think that I sometimes get into a blog comfort zone, not like I’m afraid of new blogs, but you don’t want to go to far from what you know. I don’t know. Maybe someone else understands me. Anyways, I’ve found some new people, that eventually everyone knew about and didn’t tell me. I’m mad about that. I’ll be getting on adding them to the side because it’s time to renovate my list. I can’t let it get stagnant.

Today is very chill and lax. It's Easter day. The day that Jesus came back from the grave ALIVE AND WELL. Church was interesting. I tried to listen to the pastor, but whenever he says something that gets on my nerves or I disagree with I sort of tune him out. He said something about this new Gospel of Judas and I don't know. I just don't like how in churches the pastors are seen as shephersds, and sometimes called thatr, but they lead their sheep, congregation, by their opinions. I also don't like when pastor's preach and they bring outlandish ideas and try to use the bible to back them up like they are presenting a thesis, but that's just me. I wore a nice black pinstipres suit with pink undertones. ( A hidden message to the pastor's family, but they didn' get it.) I took pictures but my next slew of pictures won't be up until my 17th birthday, and they are going to be the good, the bad, and the UGLY! (LOL)


I'm going to claim this last day of spring break by reading and eating some baked macaroni and cheese. (OH YES!)





-Marz

Song: That’s When-Tonex

"All alone, just sitting thinking by myself. Contemplating bout my life, chewing on my nails."

Mommy is home now. The first day I didn’t see her. I had returned from college and the teacher yelled at me and I needed to sleep. She’s been walking around the house crying tears of joy to be back home. She has lost a lot of weight, and seemed so tiny when I hugged her. Maybe because I’m almost a foot taller than her. At least six inches. She looks pregnant, and technically she is carrying life. I can’t wait until they do this final C-section. I hate my youngest sibling, I can tell you that now. It’s a bastard, literally. I haven’t really been talking to her really. I don’t know why. I think our relationship has sort of become undone. I don’t like people to think they know me, and when I tell my parents a little snippet they think they know everything about me. I DON’T EVEN KNOW MYSELF. So I hate when others try to peg me into what they think they know.

My got my mother some herbs, and she’s going to see a doctor about her ulcer. Now she’s only eating really healthy foods. Everything has to be baked, and she is drinking lots of water and fruit juice, although that’s not too new for her. She’s also gotten back into some of her routines. Yesterday my father and she got into a heated discussion after watching Oprah about God supplying our needs. I’m glad that I’ve learned the joy of locking my room door.

I mentioned that I don’t like hospitals last week. In my family, when one gets sick they go to the doctor. You go to the hospital to die. Sometimes people come out alive, but it isn’t something that is prevalent in my family. Even those going in for something simple as a leg fracture always come out with cancer or something. For the better majority of my deceased family my last memory of them was in a hospital. So when I saw my mother in the hospital, I sort of hyped myself up to take the blow of if she died. That is a reason why I have been so emotionally high strung. The whole week everytime the phone rang I thought it could be the bad news. Every time my father came home I thought he would be telling me my mother had died. And when you are that hype in preparing yourself for that emotional blow it MESSES WITH YOUR HEAD. I was afraid to answer the phone, but did so reflexively. I kept thinking about how different my life would be without my mother, it would’ve been like it was this week. HORRIBLE. As I did my routines in college and work I kept thinking of how if it happened while I would feel and because I wasn’t home at the time. I think I was trying to attach some guilt to the event to have a deeper emotional connection with what might happen.

I remember when I was in the hospital visiting her and the doctor said that if they did her surgery a certain way there would be " complications". I HATE THAT WORD. Complications are why so many people in my family have died. So I think from then on I was preparing myself for what could happen. Because one day my mother will die, now of course I hope it’s later on in both of our lives, but it’s going to happen.

I need to take a picture of my mother, because the last one I have of her is dressed as a clown on Thanksgiving Day. (LOL) AS this week went by I kept thinking about how many funerals I’ve attended as a child and how that picture on the front of the eulogy sort of makes or breaks everything. I don’t know about anybody else. But that eulogy is sort of like that last thing you get from that person or of that person. And it’s horrible when you pick up a eulogy and oyu look at the picture and think, " they couldn’t have found a better picture than that MY LAWD". But then in contrast when the picture is fierce than you think, ‘OMG. Sweet Jesus this is (enter name). This is just how I want to remember her’. I remember for the last couple funerals for family members it took forever to find a picture that should be on the front of the eulogy. And for my mother the last real picture we have of her is when she renewed her vows seven years ago. PEOPLE YOU HAVE TO TAKE PICTURES, AND LET YOUR FAMILY KNOW WHAT PICTURES OYU LIKE OF YOURSELF. ( I mean maybe I’m just queening out here.) But a good picture on the front of the eulogy is of importance. It’s not up there with life insurance, but it’s important. And I’m sure that anyone who has attended a funeral and looked at the eulogy picture on the cover knows what I’m saying about a good or bad picture.

So yesterday’s post was written on Thursday afternoon after seeing Darnell and whatever. Yesterday I just was, the past tense of be. I laid in my room and just listened to my thoughts. I did some more of my spring break assignment and tried to read more of Huckleberry Finn. ( That book is harder than their eyes were watching God and Push put together.) I’ve grasped myself back together. I have to. My life starts promptly again on Monday at around dawn. Oh, and because everyone keeps hinting, I have a counselor MS. BONNET. (LOL) She was the first person I came out to, and she’s my girl, so gyea. (LOL)


But she’s home now and we’re going Easter shopping. A day before Easter I’m so mad, because that’s like Christmas shopping on Christmas Eve.( Yes she is healthy enough to operate heavy machinery. Because I was worried myself.)

My comforter ripped and now there are feathers ALL OVER my room. I look like one of those people who like sex with feathers or something. LOL

So this has been Spring break 2006. Interesting, My spring breaks are always BAD. I never get to have fun on them. Soon I will be a video director for boys gone wild in college. HOT!


-Marz

GOOD FRIDAY

I think a moment of silence is appropriate for Jesus dying for me.





MOMENT OVER.


Yesterday I wrote, but didn’t see the point in posting it. It was one of those posts that were better left saved. Everything doesn’t and shouldn’t be published here, and some things are better off in my head. I have a few others, but those are just works in progress.
Yesterday, I was walking around looking for some Blistex. I saw two boys going into H&M, and my dar ticked them off. Seeing as I’m boring, and somewhat of a writer, I am constantly using my imagination for entertainment. I always create little scenarios where I have friends and more importantly FUN. So in real life I look for new things in the hope that the things in my imagination come true. Maybe walk a new way somewhere and discover something new. Maybe I’ll meet a model recruiter that can change my life. Things like that. But the most frequent imaginations is I get some great crazy friends like in Charlie’s Angels. ( My favorite movie.)


I walked into the store and saw the boys and decided that I wanted to get a bracelet. One of the boys approached me. He asked me if I remembered him. I hadn’t. He then said we went to school together. He mentioned the name of my first school and started saying he couldn’t remember the name of our third grade teacher. " Mr. Nelson," I said filling in the blank. I then tried to see whose face his resembled from our third grade class. It shouldn’t be hard, there were only 12 boys in the class besides me. "William?" I said questioningly, "no, Darnell". I smiled seeing it was Darnell and how much he had grown



He was shorter than me, maybe 5'7. His shoulders were broad and he had a football player build. But we was cool, chill, and slightly feminine. (LIKE MOI) He had these really cool earrings in his right ear, and his face was welcoming and attractive, with these nice pink lips. I then went over to the bracelets and I asked him how he was doing,’ fine’ he responded as he went back over to the boy he was with. I walked around staring at him thinking of what to do. I’m always saying how I don’t have social skills. I don’t have a social life. But I’m never trying to be social. I didn’t want him as a boyfriend, but we could at least be friends. I don’t remember doing anything in elementary school to traumatize him, so he would hate me. I walked around glancing at clothes, and then asked him about two more questions. He didn’t seem receptive, although he answered them politely. He and his friend left the store, and I did too out a different door. I saw them as I went to cross the same street, and I didn’t want to look like I was following them, so I went on. (I am proud I spoke though. YAYY ME.)



After seeing the boys I had a slight breakdown. It wasn’t seeing them exactly, but it was sort of the added timber to the fire that made my pot boil over. This week, along with having to deal with my sexuality issues, my self-esteem, self-worth, and self-love PLUMMETED. I’ve been walking around saying I’m ugly and too scrawny, and how much I hate myself. I even became slightly suicidal. But because that would cause too much grief to my parents, who were already stressed out, I pushed that one away. (And even now I want to erase that because I know that everyone is freaking out. So today will have no comments. CALM DOWN.)



As I walked down the street not wanting to look like a stalker I began to think about SOOO MANY THINGS. How HE had a gay friend and I’ve yet to make one. How he had BLOSSOMED in a sense, and my body still looks extra retarded to me. I began to think about how much he had grown and how GREAT he looked, and how I looked a mess and always did, and probably will. I began to think about how I wanted to ask for his number maybe we could hang out. Maybe I could take a step into making a new friend. But I don’t have a cell phone, and the house phone is monitored CONSTANTLY. I thought about how great his clothes looked, and how great the other gay teens, who were around, looked in their clothes, and how I STILL don’t really know how to dress AT ALL. My father dresses bad, and I’ve never really had someone take me out and teach me to dress. My outfits are basically the mannequins apparel with different colors and a little more FLARE.(Well I’m more unique than that, but that is my basics.) How I don’t make money, and the money I do make is for necessities, and not fashion and keeping my body looking nice. I began to think about how if we were closer in elementary school how he could’ve been my friend. How we could’ve been there for each other in finding out we were gay. How much my life would’ve been different during the times I had relapsed back into this week. I thought so MUCH, but the basic things were how much I HATED MYSELF. And how I’m, once again, by myself in my own world, my own planet, MARZ. (Although it is GREAT at times being me. Everyone needs a visitor or two.) How all my insecurities that I had demolished or dealt with had rose to my emotional surface.



BUT.....



Just a week ago I loved myself. JUST A WEEK AGO NONE OF THIS WOULD’VE CROSSED MY MIND. Isn’t it funny how a chapter can make a story change, one week has definitely changed mine.



As I thought all of this, I became infuriated in myself for allowing myself to feel this way. I was continuing my frustration at how I had relapsed SO FAR BACK. I got onto the trolley and went home. I ran to my room and cried. Only a few tears came out, and I wanted to cry MORE AND HARDER. But I couldn’t. The tears wouldn’t come. I truly think that after all I went through during my pre-teens I don’t have many tears left in me. I cut myself a few times. And I tried to rationalize it because I didn’t break the skin, or have to apply alcohol, it wasn’t that bad. But I did it nonetheless, and have to own up to it no matter how deep or not I went.



As I lay in the bed, rubbing over the welts from the slashes, I thought about how I wanted to tell my mother, who is home now, about this week’s occurrences. I wanted to tell her I was gay. I wanted to tell her about the exorcism. I wanted to tell her how my self love, esteem, and worth had plummeted in such a short time. EVERYTHING. I thought about how I want that type of relationship where I could’ve came home and said, "Yeah mom, I saw a boy I went to school with. He’s hot." BUT I CAN’T, AND PROBABLY NEVER WILL BE. I mean it’s nice to have all the bloggers out there who are willing to listen to me talk every so often, and I truly do have MUCH LOVE FOR YALL. But is it wrong of me to want to talk to my own parents about what is happening in my life? Is it wrong of me to want to be able to express myself? Is it wrong to not be bottled up because the things that are happening they feel are invalid because I shouldn’t be feeling them at all? Is it wrong to want some sort of consoling or protection from those who are trying to tear me down? I’ve been fending for myself, seemingly, forever and I’m tired of it.



And with friends. Is it wrong of me to want a gay friend to shop with? To converse with about boys? To feel like I belong with someone or some type of demographic?



Maybe it is. Previous generations didn’t have many things that I have, but they stood steadfast, pushing forward, although they knew their future was hopeless. Finding freedom only through death. Maybe I’m just being greedy to want an open relationship with my parents and friends that go past the dimension of where we meet everyday. ( School, church, work, etc.) I mean only Kiki is doing it so far, and I’m thankful for her.



You know I was going to stop writing altogether. Not just the blog. Writing altogether, except for school. It’s happened before. Like when my father found some letters I wrote at 4. When my mother found my journal at 9. When my aunt found my earlier journal at 7. When any of my writings were found and were condemned for their content, their realness; I turned away from writing and vowed never to write again. Until I found a more secure way to do so. But in my bed trying to condensate my eyes, I reached for a pen and book. But writing longhand never does me any good, the words don’t come out as fast as I think them. But I type over 70 WPM, so I ran to the computer.


I like to avoid writings like these, that involves my feelings. Because feelings are oftentimes illogical. They are obsolete. And the way I’ve been raised, and the dealing of my feelings by my parents and others have taught me that my feelings mean NOTHING AT ALL. So why deal with them? Why let them take control over me? They serve no real purpose. And sometimes I don’t like to write like this here, because I feel like I’ve created this place where I rule supreme and if I’m not ruling because I’m off crying and slashing my stomach then who is ruling? Also, I feel like I’m proving stereotypes right about the distressed gay boy who cries all the time, and everyone is nodding their head, saying "Yup just like the others". But I have my dark points, and my HORRIBLE WEEKS, so I think it’d be fake to be one dimensional.


This week is/was spring break. I was supposed to relax from my school, work, extracurricular, college, EVERYTHING. But I haven’t had more than three hours of sleep each night. I keep waking up in between 6:50 and 7 in the morning because I am so used to leaving the house by then. I think I’m waking up thinking that I’m going to be extra late. The other day I had an anxiety attack or something while walking down the street. I started hyperventilating and I almost passed out. I sat down for a minute and my butt started squeezing like I was having sex and I had a slight orgasm. ( It was insane) I’ve been having these weird headaches, and my eyes are burning from lack of sleep. BUT I CAN’T GET TO SLEEP.



I thought I wouldn’t be able to capture everything into words, but this is MORE than sufficient. I need some me time, and I’m off to collect it.



P.S. I’m cool. Please don’t e-mail me because there aren’t comments I know how yall get. (LOL thanks though) While downtown I found this hangout that ( I think) gay teens go to, Kiki and I HAVE to check it out.



-Marz

untitled

I see I need to clear the air for better understanding of my exorcism. (LOL It sounds so crazy now.)

First the pastor and his wife are in their fifties. There children are in their mid- twenties. The oldest one, who exorcized me, is 30 I think. (So no one thinks they are my age.)

HOW DID THEY KNOW I WAS GAY?

They knew from the youngest son, who is 24, seeing me downtown and wearing a scarf and walking, "a type of way". ( I know that's insane. LOL) This along with what PEBBLE telling the pastoir I was gay to get ay my sister. All of this got to the pastor's wife. Now I don't know if the pastor told her oldest son, not the one who saw me, but he said that he saw the spirit looming over me, because it used to try and get him as a child. This is why I think I relapsed, because if no one told him, then maybe he was operating off of God. Which sort of, in my mind, made me think, maybe this is an evil spirit, and maybe he did see it, and maybe I am sinful, and BLAH. I don't know how they knew, but it was based upon stereotypes and rumored word of mouth, and I guess I wasn't proving all the circumstantial evidence wrong. WHATEVER.


Where were my parents?

They were in the hospital. However, if my parents were there they wouldn't have objected to anything. My parents get a joy when they see my sister and I going up for prayer or getting delivered. It's like they see they are raising us correctly, and they are getting to see the fruits of their labor by seeing us strive to get Jesus for ourselves. If my parents were there they would've had a smile on their face because we went for prayer. Because growing up they always had to make us go up for prayer. My parents wouldn't have done anything, and that is why i can't even tell them about all the drama that Sunday caused me. If I went to them and said, "They exorcized a homosexual demon out of me on Sunday," they would start flipping out about me being gay or might've been gay rather then deal with my issues. It's like that. What can you do? Deal with it alone like I do.

Did it happen in front of everyone?

Yes it happened in front of everyone. REALLY, I think the whole thing was just for me. But to distract people, because they didn't want to humiliate me, they called the whole church up. When the minister was preaching and saying all the homophobic stuff he would glance at me. Then when everyone was in the front of the church getting "free". He started saying things like, "Praise God, ask him what your one thing is." Then he started to scream out what that "one thing" was for people. Then he started saying, "someone has a spirit of fornication, someone has a spirit of deceit". Then he mentioned someone had a spirit of homosexuaity, and stared me DOWN. He then came to me and started his whole thing. People were around and I'm sure they saw and, if they were close enough, heard. WHATEVER. Like I said I'm not one to get embarassed easily.

I think that deals with everything that may be unclear.

************************************************************************************
They say sex complicates things. They were right and wrong. I haven't had sex, but who I may decide to enjoy the encounter with has complicated my life. I watched Dr. Phil yesterday and he said that there is only one phobia, the fear of losing control. I thought about it, and he's right in my opinion. I applied it to my fear of hell, and there is a fear that I won't have control over where my soul goes after I die. And to make sure that I have control over it, I'm trying to abide by the rules that will get me into heaven i.e. not liking boys. But that isn't going to happen AT ALL. It's hopeless to try. I don't know. My mind has been messed with, and I've decided I'm just going to stay to myself. (Not like I haven't been.) This is also another old thing of mine, but whatever. I'm going to put my sexuality issues to the side, because my life will be starting up again next week, and it's not like i have a boyfriend who now I haev to call up and say, " Umm gyea what we did last week might send me to hell. I think we should go on a break". It's really just a stepping into my own spirituality and breaking down what others have instilled in me. BUT IT IS GOING TO BE HARD.

Mommy is coming home today, so I'll see her later. Right now I'm at work training. SHHHH.


DREAMS


The night of my exorcism I prayed that God would give me direction in my dream. I had this dream that I was downtown and the pastor picked me up, and we flashed to the suburbs and he kept asking me, "ARE YOU GAY?" And I didn't know what to answer. I kept thinking about how if I told him the truth he would tell my family, it was insane. I woke up tryign to figure out what God was saying to me.


Women have been hitting on me lately. The other day while waiting for the train this girl and boy were talking, and then the boy encouraged the girl to "go ahead". She walked up to me and asked my name, and how old I was, and if I had a girl. SHE ASKED FOR MY NUMBER. It was the day after the exorcism and I was all messed up. I was soooo messed up. Then the boy that was with her came up to me angrily saying, " What you don't like her?" after I refused her advances. And I thought he may have been her brother and offended that I didn't like her sister, or was calling her ugly or something. So then I was like at a crossroads at what to say, because I didn't want to be like, " No I don't like her," and then he want to fight, but I didn't want to be like, " I like her", and then have to give her my number. So then he starts asking questions, and I'm thinking, 'maybe he's probing for a number'. So then he asks if I like girls and I'm so exhausted from the day before that I mumble, " no". Then he asks if I like boys and I mumbled even lower, " gyea". then he turns to the girl and said, " see, this nigga likes niggas". Then she got this face like she was going to cry and started saying, " No he didn't. He did not say that. He likes girls. HE SAID SO." And then the boy just grabbed her and moved her away and she whispers, "well boy you are PHYNE". I've never been called fine before, let alone PHYNE. It felt nice. But then I started thinking maybe this was God saying I am straight and giving me a girlfriend to accompany my new life as a heterosexual. ( I was SOO messed up.)


Then this other woman was flirting with me. SHE ASKED ME IF I WAS BRAZILIAN. I was like, "NO". I mean I guess I could be a dark Brazilian but NO. This also did not help me because although at school there are some girls who like me A LOT. I'm usually alright on the streets because I keep myself looking unattractive. But I was seeing it as some sort of sign, like Giod was saying, " my son you are straight. Take this woman which I have given you, and in two years marry here and enjoy the passion yet to be experienced".

IS THAT INSANE?


MY MIND WAS ALREADY LOST, BUT NOW I'VE BEEN MOVED TO A WHOLE NEW PLACE, AND I NEED TO GET BACK TO THE OLD PLACE TO AT LEAST BE IN THE SAME SURROUNDINGS OF MY LOST MIND. ( Does that make sense?)


I need to get to everyone's blog. I'll get there everyone.


-Marz

NEWSFLASH

Mommy's tumor isn't cancerous. She should be coming home later today.


I need rest.


-Marz

NEWSFLASH

Mommy will not be coming home today. She said they found an ulcer in her stomach and that is why she has been regurgitating her food. She said they did the biopsy and that she received a colonoscopy. She then mentioned, "yeah, that is what my mother died after having. But I’m tough as nails, more like a building with a few cracks in it". I wanted to smack her in the head. As all this happens, I keep thinking of the hospital bill that is rising with each second in that place. WILL OUR INSURANCE COVER IT?


My father hasn’t been to work since Friday. I hope he doesn’t lose his job. He keeps buying all this fattening food because its quick to prepare, but we can cook, and I don’t need it right now. He is stressed out, and I’m trying to make everything fine at home. But my sister wants to be on the phone all day and make sure she tells him of every little problem she is having. LEARN HOW TO COOK, GET OFF THE PHONE AND HELP ME CLEAN.


But I am slightly happy because my mother said that because of her ulcer she is going to have to eat like me, healthily. So through this she should come out healthier and in better shape. Also if that is the reason for her stomach issues then she can have her hysterectomy in June and heal during summer break, which will enable her to work these last two months.


I NEED A HUG.

P.S. This is not today’s post, just a newsflash.

-Marz

State of Confusion

Confusion is defined as the state of being confused, uncertainty or bewilderment.


In self acceptance of one’s sexuality, specifically, homosexuality many go through a phase of sexual confusion. Where they have to fight through every thing they think they know, to get to the what they do know. In my case, I like men.


Many experience one thing that brings their orientation to their attention, and then they go into a state of denial. They call denial a closet, but I view it as an eggshell. Because while in the eggshell one can experience some blows that will allow the yolk, self knowledge, to be free. Eggs can be cracked but still serve their purpose. One in the eggshell can give a man oral sex, but still rationalize his heterosexuality. But after a while the cracks become to much, or we accept our yolks, and come out. Once our yolks are out there are still steps to be made. But a main step is self acceptance. That is FAR step, and are there many far and in between. Confusion was the WORST STEP FOR ME.


I stayed in denial for a while. I didn’t want to prove other people right. I didn’t want to be attached to the stereotypes. I knew what they taught in church. Gay people were going to hell. It was just a simple demon. All they needed was a prayer and they could be delivered. But then some things were muddled. "All gay people have been raped", my mother said once. I was never raped. But confusion was weird. I knew how I felt around boys. How even though everyone said it was this huge evil in me. I felt normal, and , also unlike what others said, I was not FORCING myself to like boys. There was something alluring about broad shoulders, pecs, big arms, six packs, and of course penises. If she could be wrong about that what else was wrong. I STR-UGG-LED through my confusion. STRUGGLED. It was the WORST two years of my life, and along with other issues. HORRIBLE.


I NEVER WANTED TO BE GAY. I don’t think anyone would ever choose to be. But I am. And in my acceptance, pride grew.


But after Sunday, I’ve relapsed back into confusion. That place where you evoke your own self hatred. No one makes it for you. You make it. I have been raised in the church, and one thing they make sure you have is a fear of hell. After heaing the one who exorcized me talk about how he resisted the gay demon and it flee from him it made my skepticism falter and somehow I became receptive. I started thinking about how GREATLY I am afriad of going to hell. HOw MAYBE being gay is just a demon. BUt the prayer did nothing. As I stood clapping I thought about how it did NOTHING. And when my exorcist talked to me after service he sounded kind of DL but so afraid of accepting himself that it'd keep him married to his wife. ALso for what she went through for him. ( He had intensive surgery and she stood by his side, BLAH BLAH BLAH.)

I know I still like males. But I don't want to if it will cost me hell. I've also adopted my old asexual motto. Because I know that being in a relationship with a girl would be a sham, and only because of my fear of hell. And likings boys would directly interfere with my hell fear.


I feel so HURT. I feel so angry. I'm mad at myself for allowing me to relapse into confusion. It was always the church that kept me back then too.

I know how I feel but I can't quite capture it.

But I've cried like that 12 year old boy. CRIED MY EYES OUT.


This is a sad day in my history, and a horrible way to spend my spring break. DEPRESSED, CONFUSED, AND WORRIED.

I keep experiencing these weird mixtures of events that come together horribly PERFECT. I don't know what I did to deserve them. I would think that after such a sad and trying childhood that my teenagehood would be the happier. However it is not. I'm starting to think my joyous adulthood is only wishful thinking.

AS I read this over I want to punch myself in the mouth for feeling this way. I'M SO ANGRY AT MY DIGRESSION. But I also just realized this is what the church wants. They want me to arouse self hatred in myself, and more specifically in my being gay. HAte being gay and love being straight. Or maybe this just makes sense in this state of Confusion.


P.S. I have yet to post about the pastor dream and the women.



-Marz

Define:Livid

I wrote out a long post describing how we ended up at our current church. How I never wanted to leave the church I grew up at. But God said it was our time to move. Who am I to argue with God? I was really just recapping all the events that led to last week.

Read here to find out about two weeks ago.

Last week, after church I usually run to the car. That is where I find my sanity. Because in church I think such BLASPHEMOUS thoughts. Like how the ministers refer to the congregation as the "audience," it makes me think of how they are just ‘putting on a show’. As I walked down the step, the pastor’s wife called out to me, " Mark, Mark". She catches me and asks me how I’m doing, of course me thinking this is just Christian hospitality I tell her, "fine". She then says that I’m not fine, NO, that I’m feeling a lot of pain. She gestures with her hand hovering over my heart. She then tells me that her son saw me down GAY Philly wearing a scarf and walking a ‘type of way’. SIDEBAR: I must explain gay Philly. It is not really all that hype. Center City is very metropolitan and liberal. They are (somewhat) more acceptive of things downtown. ON 13th street is where a lot of LGBT people hang out. This part of the city has a higher gay population than others, and I can see why. They have great clothes, food, arts, I can’t say about the gay clubs, and it is just a very accepting place. Because a lot of gay people are in this area, however, straight people are also there. It is just a more liberal part of the city, and stereotypically has a higher gay population. They have tried to make it have a Greenwich Village glow, but it fails in many ways. ( hopefully it does, or the New Yorker need to calm Greenwich down a bit.)


She told me that her son, who is 24 (so people don’t think he’s my age) works downtown, and said he saw me, and began to worry about me. She said I was wearing a scarf, the one that was in my pictures. She kept saying "13th street" which signaled HOMOSEXUALITY, and mentioning I was walking, "a type of way". She said that he was going to talk to me, because he was worried about me. About what I was doing with my life, what I was doing down there. BLAH BLAH BLAH. She then said, "Do you know what I mean when I say "walking...a..Type..Of way..?" I said I did. I didn’t really. But I’m a VERY logical person. She wouldn’t have mentioned 13th street if it was something as simple as walking like I was drugged, or I was stabbed or something. Maybe I was switching, who knows. She then grabbed my shoulder and told me to call her, so that we could resolve my problems. Or rather, "deal with that".


First, I saw him in winter time, and I was leaving a cafe. I was getting some green tea, and heading for the 13th street station. I could see if I was down there at midnight with say the black gay blogger crew, but I wasn’t. I was walking with some tea at about 3 p.m. heading for the train station. But that did explain why he kept giving me that worried/scared heterosexual look. ( You know the look straight men give you when they try to appear strong like they could beat you up, but they have that glimmer of, "I hope he doesn’t rape me" in their eyes.) I crossed the street without looking at the lights, a bad habit of mine. I almost get hit by a car. I got in my mother’s car and begin to scream. But then I stopped, immediately. Emotions cloud my thinking processes, and I needed to think. I was trying to rationalize some other conclusion, but I knew what she was saying. She knew I was gay, or that I think I’m gay, and I need to talk to her so she can deliver me. And although I should be livid, I understand her. It’s weird understanding someone’s good intentions, even though they’re wrong. She is trying to help me get delivered from homosexuality so that I don’t go to hell. (Although according to the church, since I’m not a PRACTICING homosexual, because my booty still has its ORIGINAL tightness label encoded, I won’t go to hell.)

FLASH TO YESTERDAY:

My father has been having issues at his job. They switched his schedule unknowingly to him and wanted to penalize him for missing work because he was visiting my mother in the hospital. He is walking through the house unfocused as I got my sister and I ready for church. He cooked breakfast, although I told him he didn’t have to. I pre-prepared dinner before we left. WE arrived at church and he kept telling my sister and I to be good and not to fight. I swear he thinks we’re juveniles. We technically are, but we aren’t going to fight each other, especially not in church.

The pastor’s son preached the sermon. Not the one who saw me, the other one who quoted the bible wrong last time. His message was about how people can’t be holy and have a little bit of sin, they need to be totally holy. I listened her and there as I prayed silently for my mother who was in the hospital. Then he started saying how masturbation is not only a form of fornication, but a form of homosexuality. Because when you "make love’ to yourself you are having sex with one that is the same sex. Because it is you. I could follow the logic, but it was still weird. He then started tlaking about how the schools are allowing gay children to recruit and train more gay children in these programs. ( gay straight alliances) How gay poeple are evil, and the are going to hell. How the bible says they are effeminate, and he can show it. How there are kids out there whose parents are both ministers and they are trying to hang out with the gay kids to make friends, and these kids are willing to go through the gay training in order to make friends. At that moment I thought he was talking about me in some sense. Because I can sort of sense how people feel sometimes, and I could tell the pastor’s wife wanted me to say something like, " I was raped, and I was down 13th street looking for a LOVE that I couldn’t find from a woman." or something saying I was looking for love, or I’m trying to find someone to heal my pain. SOMETHING. When I KNOW the pain and hatred I felt on a daily basis that I HAD to work through ON MY OWN. So I know that I’m better. When you truly hate people and are hurt you can feel it, and I don’t feel it ANYMORE.


He then started talking about how growing up since he lived in the hood but he was a church boy the kids labeled him as gay. Because he went to a Christian school and wore uniforms while they ghetto kids didn’t. He said that the spirit of homosexuality visited him and told him that he liked boys, and he told it that he liked girls and casted it down. And he castd it down two more times when it came. While hearing hi tell his story. My mind started to relapse to that place in confusion where I was questioning whether being gay is an evil spirit. He started screaming about how they’re going to hell, and how gay people claim their lifestyle is so different, but there is always a women one, submissive, and a man one, dominant. I have a post boiling over this.



He then said that everything had "one thing" that was keeping them from having a closer relationship with Jesus. Everyone walked to the front of the altar, and gathered around. He told us to pray for God to deliver us from that one thing, and if we didn’t know what it was to pray for knowledge of our one thing. I didn’t know what my one thing was, so I begin to pray. I stood eyes closed, hands clapping, mouth repeating, "Jesus", and then I felt him come near me. He got in my ear and started screaming, and someone grabbed my back. It was either his wife or his mother. He started screaming, " You have a lot of pain. You have been hurt many times. God take that from him. Make him new". He the went on to say that it was gone and he pinched at my shoulders like he was pinching and lifting lint off, and then throwing it on the floor. He begin saying, " you are a MAN of god. You are going to be a REAL MAN. You are a MAN of destiny", making sure to emphasize on MAN. He then said, " God is going to change your character traits and make them more masculine". And he continued to exorcize me. He then left and whoever was behind me positioned my hands lifted towards the ceiling exalting Jesus. Both of my exocists said I was now delivered. I was to stand and thank Jesus for my deliverance.



Somewhere between hearing him preach and assessing my week I relapsed. I was so tired of being gay. Tired of having to go through these spectacles at church. Tired of being rumored about. Tired of heraing my name in others mouths. I mean what did I really have to lose by becomgin straight. I wouldn’t become some big homophobic person.



They say you can’t get delivered if you aren’t willing to give up your sin. If you aren’t willing to yield to that of the Lord. IN becoming that confused boiy, I begin to wish I was straight like he did. I clapped harder. The ministered told us to gather our seats. I sat down telling myself familiar words. I’m asexual. Because liking boys will get me to hell, and I’ll never really like girls. So I like no one. Logic yelled and intervened in my insanity, but I am so tired, and logic is illogical to a tired mind. A tired mind wants rest and not logic. Logic is not something that helps rest. But it’s funny how rest can be found in denial. But then it causes unrest while looking for the truth. Luckily I had my logic there when I was ready.



After service the pastor’s son began to tell me how he said his testimony about his fighting the homosexual spirit because he seem him in me or me in him. SOMETHING. How he was quiet and did the same job in the church. How we both have an ear for music. He said he could see that spirit looming over me. He gave me advice on how hanging around gay people can make that spirit try and jump. He then started talking about how I’m meant to do geat things for God. HE started talking about I experience a lot of turmoil at home, or I may not experience any turmoil. And then he said something about being a homosexual, because I remeber him saying, " not saying you’re a homosexual". He then told me that he would be an ear for me. I have enough ears in my life, I need to rest of the body parts. Also, I’m not one to easily reach out to people, because I’ve settled my own issues, such as cutting ALONE. So if I can deal with things as major as that, what can one do for a simple issue. NOTHING. ( At least that’s how I feel in my head.)
I left the church shaken in my sexuality. Thank god I really have no part in it, meaning I don’t have sex. I went to the store and bought some foods for dinner. My sister and I came home, and I started dinner.


So how do I feel? WEIRD. I mean who am I trying to lie to. I looked at two hot men on the way home. But I feel different inside, like I can feel the confusion. I need to recoup my mind. Is it insane that I am considering not becoming a "practicing homosexual", so I don't go to hell. I AM SO TIRED OF THESE SCARE TACTICS. It’s like I’ve been beat down and battered into a corner and I’ve surrendered my self consciousness in exchange for confusion. That’s why the bartering system no longer exists. I'm angry that I've allowed myself to get to this point again. I’ll be back. I have to get ready for mommy's biopsy.


-Marz

LIVID

I AM LIVID. LIVID DO YOU HEAR ME? LIVID I WROTE THIS LONG POST EXPLAINING WHAT HAPPENED TODAY, AND IT ERASED AND I DON’T HAVE IT.


IN BRIEF LET ME JUST SAY TODAY THEY EXORCIZED ME OF MY GAY DEMON IN CHURCH. OH YES, THEY DID.

I HOPE THEY DID A WONDERFUL JOB WITH IT. I PERSONALLY AM TIRED OF BEING GAY.


DADDY IS GETTING FLACK FROM HIS JOB. MOMMY IS HAVING HER BIOPSY TOMORROW.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH


I'll try to recount exactly what happened today for tomorrow.

-Marz

Bad things changing

It’s raining today. It seems appropriate granted the circumstances. Although rain can be, and, mostly, is seen as sorrowful. It represents cleansing of the Earth. A change. The watering of life, and sometimes death.

I awoke this morning around seven. I barely slept, mommy is in the hospital. I crept slowly and quietly down the hallway to my parents room. My father was sleeping. I wondered what time he got home as I slid under my covers back in my room. I awoke two hours later to my father asking if my sister and I wanted to go to the hospital and visit my mother. He told us we should be ready in an hour. I moved slowly. Not knowing what exactly was going on. My father was son his cell phone calling people, he whispered in hushed tones, being a man, protector, trying to protect my sister and I from what’s happening. He sometimes fails to realize that we are teenagers. My mother says he still thinks we are 4. We often call him crazy when he tell people my sister is 9 when she is 14.


I watched one cartoon as my sister washed. I haven’t seen a cartoon in about a year. I feel like I’m no longer a child. I feel old. But youth runs to me with the latest episode of Xialon Showdown. Breakfast is made, cherry pop tarts with grapefruit slices. My father is roaming the house rambling to whomever. I went to iron my shirt, he took it and told me to get ready as I heard some of what he was saying. I gathered some work, not knowing how long I’d be in the hospital.


We loaded into the car, umbrellas up, and we traveled to purchase comfort. Balloons and get well cards, some personal comfort from gummi bears, and some gum. It was ironic how the day I have to travel to see my mother in a hospital a cute boy flirts with me in the store. (His hips looked like they could give comfort also.) After the comfort was purchased we left, and got into the car to go to the hospital.


I don’t like hospitals. I’ve been there for multiple family members, and they have never been pleasant. I especially don’t like doctors. Trying to benefit off the sick by trying new surgery techniques. I didn’t see Pop Pop before he died, because of a HOSPITAL rule. Grandpa died in a hospital. Hospital are not happy places, although I can tolerate them. I am the pillar, the one that must stay strong and support. Whether it be a car accident, bill, or hospital.


We drove in silence. Afraid to put words to our feelings. I kept thinking how this may be my mother’s time. Maybe I’m TOO realistic sometimes. Maybe optimism would do me well.

We entered the hospital, and my mother’s room without being stopped. We didn’t even have to sign in. That could be scary if we were murderers or something. We entered the room and my mother lay asleep on her hospital bed. My father sat down with a POOF of the cushion giving to his weight. Her eyes opened. She smiled. I sat staring, and I wanted to start crying. I looked out the window, peeked over the edges, and saw how high we were. I don’t like heights either. Traumatic childhood experiences that my father caused. I didn’t cry. My father left the room, and I asked what was wrong.


My mother is/was anemic. Her blood iron level was supposed to be at 12, the normal tier, however, it was at 7.2. She also has a fibroid tumor that is the size of a child that is 40 weeks old. Four weeks overdue if it were a human. She also had a fever a little over 99 degrees. But just slightly.

I found solace in these words, because the symptoms didn’t add to death. Although, seeing as their were no integers, who is to say what death equals and what addition of symptoms tips the scale.


My sister pulled out a brush. She did her hair as my godmother walked into the room. She brought with her a comb and brush, some chapstick, and mints. I laughed at how us womenfolk care about things such as hair, clothes, and smells in the hospital. ( Yes I referred to me in the womenfolk. LS) My sister went to do her hair in a ponytail, but then my mother suggested two braids back. Her arms looked weak. IV tubes sticking out. I never thought I’d see my mother in a hospital bed. Maybe a prison first. (LS) but never a hospital. This was a place for grandma this, or uncle that. Not my mother. She said that she would be getting a blood transfusion shortly to fix her anemia. We laughed and joked. My godmmother made Color Purple jokes referring to my mother’s Celiesque hairstyle. " What you don did to me". She smiled at her cards and bunnies. Four in total.


My father recounted the nights tales. My mother told her stories about getting a CATSCAN and her brazier laughs. I sat in the chair and actually looked in at my mother. Sometimes, I realized, we look at people. We look to people. But there was a difference in this looking at her. I saw her. Who she was, her essence. I stared into her eyes. And saw some things. My grandmother was said to be a gypsy. They say I see things I’m not supposed to in people’s eyes. I saw laughter in my mother’s. The nurses brought the blood, and another nurse came and she was funny. She thought I was older. Everyone does though. My god mother, somehow, knew I wanted to be a sex therapist. Mommy could never keep her mouth shut.


My father is quite the hypochondriac. He is constantly looking for a new herb. He isn’t healthy, and could use to get in shape, yet he is always referencing to an herb. He kept talking about his new elixir, apple cider vinegar. He talked about some herbs my mother could take to shrink her tumor. I hate when he does that. He waits until one gets sick and that person is in dire need of medicinal treatment, and then he makes a reference to some drug which could’ve helped them, or still can, yet he doesn’t go and get it. I guess it’s a coping mechanism.


A doctor came in and talked to my mother about what needed to be done. She is definitely going to need a hysterectomy. The tumor has grown, so that it would be " complicated", the doctor’s word, to remove. They will only take the uterus. My mother was worried about starting menopause. I’m worried about it too, for selfish reasons of course. But they won’t be taking everything, just thr uterus so she won’t start menopause until her time. On Monday, she will get a biopsy to see if the tumor is cancerous. The doctor put a stress on how RARE it is to get cancer in the uterus or the tumor, one of the other. My parents are trying to see if she can hold out on the surgery until the summer. That way she can heal up during the summer break. The doctor said she could, but unless her symptoms are from a stomach virus she will continue to feel pain. Because the tumor may be pushing against her stomach and bowels. Which may be why she has been throwing up a lot lately. Although the doctors think she is bulimic. She isn’t. The doctor said they could give her a shot that would shrunk her uterus and shut her periods off for a while, and she could wait to get the surgery done. But we have to see if her sickness part is from the virus or the tumor.


I have read up on hysterectomy surgeries. I do have an interest in the sex organs. Everything should go fine when it does happen. My mother will no longer have a period, and since they aren’t taking anything else she won’t start menopause. But I could feel something about not being able to have children. Although I KNOW my parents don’t and aren’t having any other children. I know they feel a sort of COMFORT knowing that they could. And after this, there are no more children thoughts to be had. I mean her fallopian tubes are tied, but they could be untied. I don’t know.


Right now we are waiting to see what the transfusion will do to her strength. The biopsy will be on Monday, and hopefully the tumor is benign. It should be. It is. I can feel it. And then the uterus must come out. She’s going to lose so much weight. I was getting her a gym membership for her birthday, so she could tone up, and get in shape for her forties. Which is a good year from next month tomorrow (on the dot exactly.) I’m trying to imagine how it would be if I were to have my uterus taken out, or testicles rather. I don’t think I have that great of an attachment to my testicles really though. But that is like her life holder. Interesting in the life it has chosen to hold recently.


My godmother gathered us to take us home. My father stayed with my mother. I hope he gets some rest. He can be one to blame people for his lack of necessities because he chose to help them. In other words, blame his lack of sleep on my mother’s sickness. Gyea, he does have character flaws, but don’t we all. But my parents also have love, commitment for 20 years. I want that. And I won’t settle. I realized as I watched them in the hospital.


In the car my godmother talked to us about how we felt. I don’t know how I feel. I want my mother to be back and healthy. I want her to go through this safely. And I want her to LEARN from this to value her health. I may be a banshee when I want to about the nutrition facts of foods. But people need to realize that their health is more precious than anything. I WANT YOU MY READERS TO LEARN THAT LESSON WHILE READING THIS. We talked about college, which we both attend now. She asked if I had a girlfriend, "No", I answered sternly yet easily. But I never have said that without feeling, weird, nervous, like I was showing some missing link in my life. My words reveled some growth in me, because I didn’t feel that way at all. We got food from McDonald’s, the restaurant I SWORE never to eat at again after seeing Super Size Me. I got healthy foods.


AND.....


I am currently at home. The temporary MOTHER of the house.(Doesn’t that sound very ballroom scene-like LS.) Dinner has been cooked, and the house is getting cleaned. It’s refreshing to know that my parents can be relieved in the knowledge that my sister and I can be alone at home without dying. I’ve been trying to find comfort in food. I admit it. I’ve been trying to rationalize it, because instead of eating cakes and cookies; I’m eating Raisin Bran and salad. I realize that only God and words can comfort me. So I’m here. Although I must admit the dinner I cooked taste wonderful. It’s surprising, granted, I haven’t cooked in a few months. Two of my grandmothers called. Grandma Pastor was civil and got my mother’s hospital number. But Grandmother Thel was calling for my father. When my sister informed her that he was in the hospital with my father she asked, " where they fighting?" Then proceeded to verbally assault my mother. There are words but I’m going to resist them. I watched Spanglish to relax. I liked it. Adam Sandler could take me any day of the week. He is a very sexy man. No one has to agree with me. While watching the deleted scenes I heard a prayer I like.......


Please God let only the bad things change.


-Marz

NEWSFLASH

MOMMY HAS BEEN ADMITTED INTO THE EMERGENCY ROOM TONIGHT.


She said she had a stomach virus and was throwing up blood. She looked bad.

I hope it isn't here time to go. I always thought my father would go first.

Both are still at the hopsital, let me get off the internet in case they call.

-Marz

.......

I think I've been added to this black blogger list or something, and now I'm receiving a lot of emails with people exhibiting their blogs. HMMMM.


I haven't felt like writing lately...I've been feeling like what's the point of doing it....My life has become sort of......something. I've been thinking about discontinuing this blog....but I won't. But who knows what's to come.....

Spring Break

Spring break starts today....I have no plans.....I really want to have like a spring break fling or something.....


I need to find that boy......he smacks my ass and calls me "sexy".....he's straight... and very insane...but I like being called sexy...I think I want to have a spring break fling...I'm thinking about that virginity piece.... I mean I need practice for my husband.... right?.... I think I want a short boy.....You can throw short boys around...pin them against the wall..... they're like stuffed animals.... that can give you sexual pleasure...although I do miss Marquis.... maybe an ugly boy....they supposedly have the biggest penises....but I may be a top..... I could be a bottom.... probably versatile...VERSATILITY ROCKS... Kiki said that being a versatile bottom is the best.... said she hear it on Showtime....damn not having cable.....



While reading the Metro.... They announced that they found... the gospel of Judas....supposedly...Jesus TOLD Judas to give him up to the guards. That is very different from the bible, so now bible scholars will argue whether it should be added into the bible. This is what I'm talking about.


The other day I heard this song titled, "Teabag dat hoe". It was interesting.

For all those out of the loops, teabagging is a process in which a man lowers his testicles into one's mouth, a glass, and his testicles are simulating teabags. (Hairy teabags. LOL) the song TURNED ME ON. I needed some music, and I asked to borrow this nice boys Ipod shuffle. And it was talking about fellatio, and sucking on testicles and I was like, 'hmmmm that sounds like fun". HOW ABOUT I PUT SOME WARM WATER IN MY MOUTH A LITTLE HONEY, AND I CAN FIND SOMEONE TO HELP ME MAKE SOME TEA. I am a bit sick....I could use some tea.


I loved the list of what to do to repel boys.....don't worry....I stay ugly on a daily so the boys don't look at me.....But today I'm FLY....wearing some discount Lucky and American Eagle. I need to learn how to lick my lips.... you know I didn' use to like my lips.....people made fun of my upper lip....said I was a smoker....because it is darker than the big pink one....until a gay boy told me one day how WONDERFUL they would be....for giving head of course....I then discovered I have DSL's.....What was my point....I'm so stressed out.....I'm going to relax this next week.....have I mentioned that Bobby Brown Jr is so silly.....anyways....I can't lick my lips seductively....and the other day....I realized that when I get my lips the right way...I can be sexy....actually....the other day....I realized my external beauty....I've always been a bit of a ugly swanling...and I know I'll be a swan...but I'm starting to see it....but I've been flirting visually with boys...getting them to lock eyes...and then I stare them down...somewhat...but in the middle of the eye stare....I would love to like...lick my lips...HMMM...but then I hate when boys do that to me... it's like.... "would you like some Blistex?.....

Who knows?


So my school is having this overnight trip....we're going to be in an amusement park.... from 10 p.m. to 5 a.m.....mommy said YES....I have to get up the money.....there's going to be other schools there.....I wonder what in the world I would do at an amusement park at 2 a.m.....It's still looming in my head...but I guess I'll see..mommy was like, " You should be able to go...you've been showing yourself responsible for....the last few years."....It's funny to think that I am the one they trust and have freedom....my parents are really nice...although I may paint them as evil....


So I need to get my body together.....you older homosexuals don't want to share body building tips.....don't we want the younger generation of homosexuals to be sexy....as well as smart...... I want some arms.....and a chest....it's not that bad....but it could use some more....I need to get some heavier barbells....I've outgrown my 10lbs... I weighed myself today....I gained ten lbs.....YES..I'm 180 now...6'1 180... too sexy....


I've been talking to people...why do they refer to gay sex.... as being ACITVE?.... is it a sport or something...... maybe it is.....sex does burn calories.....tops burn more calories....well most times..... also why do we employ the word....penetrate....when I hear ...penetrate.... I think about a shovel breaking through concrete....that is not a good image in my head....



I feel really….in between…the periods…pausing....I need to pause.....regroup...get myself together....but what is wrong with me..... I don't know.... I just need to....


PAUSE

HMMM. this post is a ...MESS...whatever





-Marz

I'm it.

I was tagged last night, by ProfessorGQ. I never get tagged. Maybe everyone thinks I have measles or something. (Whatever. LOL) BUT EVERYONE KNOWS TAG IS A CHILD'S GAME, AND I'M THE ONLY CHILD IN BLOGWORLD.


So let's begin.




If you were to be the opposite sex for one day, what would you do?

I would have soo much fun. I would randomly walk up to guys and say, "You look like you have a big dick. I'd love to find out if my assumption is true." I'd be such a WHORE, like WHORE WHORE WHORE. I'd get some honey blonde micros, and a manicure and pedicure. I'd go shopping, and buy some cute pink stilletos and get a hot outfit showing my killer legs. I'd get some nice perfume, and hit Victoria's Secret. Then after asking to see these men's penises, I would be able to fit the hugest one I found that day inside me. Because vaginas give more way than anuses. I'd be so sexy, hot, and firey, and have SOO MUCH FUN. Unless I was a girl on my period then I'd shoot some folk, and blame it on PMS. All the male cops would hear me say, "PMS," and would scrunch their face and let me go. Overall I'd be a SLUT, because women have it easier in getting SOME. I mean I only have %10 percent of the population without subtracting lesbians, and just ABSTOLUELTY NOTS. I'd also try to discover the actual power that vaginas ( supposingly) have. I'd market that power and SELL IT.


If you had to name the most difficult thing about being a teenager today, what would you say?

UMMMM.... that is kind of too easy.

WHERE DO I BEGIN. First just read my whole blog. No control over yourself, too many rules, too many restrictions, no sex, SCHOOL, WORK. CHURCH. Low paying jobs. Too much stress aboyt college, your future. Not able to get what you need/deserve. Crime. TESTS. SAT. MONEY. PROM. PRESSURE. Dealing with the immaturity of your age group. TOO MUCH. I'd go on all day.

If you had to name the most embarrassing moment of your life, when was it?

My life is one big embarassing story really, but I've learned to laugh at it. Growing up with my parents you learn to not have shame, and don't do things that would make you feel shameful. Because my parents have beat me in public. I've been scolded in public. I remember last year I was going to check Kill BIll out of the library. Right before I went to give it to the library woman, Kiki, he grabs it from my hand, and screams across the packed quiet library, "UMM.. Are we letting him see R-rated movies now? OH that's what I thought". He then he smacked me in the head with the DVD case for trying to be slick.( I was not being slick. I received authorization to get it, but mommy wanted to change her mind.) So to be embarassed is something I don't know. Just yesterday I fell up some steps after getting off the train, and was alking around the school with a MAJOR erection. I just laugh at myself. I think people get embarassed when they take themselves too seriously. LAUGH AT YOURSELF.


If you had to name the most overrated actor in Hollywood, who would it be?

Boris Kodjoe. ( I mean he's nice to look at, and fantasize over. But he does play almost the same role all the time. If he isn't showing skin, then you're like, " why am I watching this?" I don't think he'll ever come close to any Oscar's or such.)


If you had to name the one personality trait that you have tried the hardest to change in yourself, what would you say?

Stressing out over minor things, or things that don't require that much effort.


If you could go back for one minute to the Garden of Eden and give Adam advice, what would you say?

"Adam, go over there past the lions and tigers and bear, OH MY. THERE'S A UNICORN. Anyways, there is a man named Steve, unh hunh. Ask him to show you where your prostate is, but here's the twist. Ask him to show it to you with his penis. YEAH LET HIM POINT IT OUT FOR YOU. Stay away from Eve and her FRUITS (that is shade being thrown). Steve has this new fruit called a BA-NA-NA, B-A-N-A-N-A-S. You'll love it. Oh Adam, I've always wondered how big the first man's penis was. Seeing as throughout the years all the gene splitting cut it down, 63 inches long. MESS. ( We all know Adam didn't have a ruler, and that he was off by abour 50 inches.) OOPS minute up." (I talk fast.)


If you were to name the best “I told you so” you ever got to deliver, what was it?

I have had a lot of chances to, because I tell people stuff and they like to close their eyes to the truth. But I'm not that type of person. There's no need to rub a mistake in someone's face. I just advise them to learn the lesson from their mistake, and also learn a lesson from their mistake.

If you were Madonna, what would you do for your next publicity stunt?

I would get six men to paint their penises the colors of the rainbow, and then try to fit all six in me at the same time, erect. Then I would say that my next child will be bright as the rainbow, or a skittle.

Give Barack Obama head.

Urinate on the White House.

If you could have a lifetime 50 percent discount in any single store at your local mall, which store would it be in?

UMMM.... I shop at the thift store and Old Navy, so I don't know nice clothing too well. But let's say Dolce&Gabbana. (I don't know why. LOL)


If you could have one more pet, what kind would you get, and what would you name it?

WE have a cat which I don't like. I've always wanted a snake, and LONG python type snake.( no puns here.) I'm going to get one when I'm grown. My father says that snakes are evil. (ROLL EYES) I don't know what I'd name it, but it'd be African like, " Mgboolu Karofu".



If you could have God perform one miracle today, what would you want it to be?

I'm trying to think of something that wouldn't be selfish. Also, seeing as I'm still breathing, and whoeever is reading this is breathing are two miracles already.


But, that our world would go into a state of progression instead of regression or digression.

Or maybe that i would be given the capabilities to live on Mars which is different in more than just the Z. (LOL)



If you could spend next New Year’s Eve doing anything, what would you do, and with whom?

UMM... I have spent all my New Year's Eves at church. I don't like questions like this, because I can't think of what I would do. My life is so sheltered. It's hard to think about life outside the prison., because I haven't experienced it. I would want to be happy, and with people who are unique, mature, and happy.

Maybe someone to bring the New Year in with an orgasm. That was stronger than the fireworks, and ball drop in New York. ( I'm a but slutty today if no one caught it by now.)


If you were to set your country’s immigration policy, what would it be?

My English teacher in college is from Nigeria. He tells us stories, sometimes, about his struggle to come to America, and why he loves it here. After hearing that, I think that I would make the laws less stringent than what they are. I think we should exile some people from America, they take some of the things we have here for granted. ( If you ever hear about some of the things that happen in foreign countries you'll begin to respect America, despite its MANY faults.)



If you were given the power to settle the issue of gays in the military, what policy would you set?

Let them in. They already are. I would just make a rule enforcing that sex be private, no matter what orientation had it. Designate a period when sex should start and stop. Although that would be hard for the slow climaxers. Besides, no one should be having sex when learning how to work a gun.


If you could have one person you have lost touch with call you up tonight and invite you to dinner, who would you want it to be?

I don't have friends (well sort of, but not really), and if some one is cut out of my life it's for a reason, so no one. But I'd like to meet my gay uncle Michael, see if he was cool. If he wasn't I'd throw shade and we'd seperate again.


If you could change on thing about your love life, what would it be?

I don't even have one to change. (LOL)

I would like to find someone my age who is at my speed. (Although I don't exactly know my speed.) I don't know. I think TOO many people my age are too concerned about love, when there is all the time in the world to find, have, and experience it. I have love for myself, and Jesus loves me. Right now that is all I need.




If you could have prevented one book from ever having been written, which book would it be?

I work in a library and I'm CONSTANTLY seeing books that should've stayed in someone's head. Let's say 50 Cent's book.

If you have to name the best music album ever recorded, which would you select?


I can only listen to gospel. I wouldn't want to answer knowing that I haven't experienced that much of music. But currently, I would have to say, "02" by Tonex. It's my favorite cd, and Tonex is just so AWESOME. He truly is the Prince of gospel. ( Yall better check on it like Beyonce. )


If you could have one thing made out of pure gold, what would you choose?

Something that would be worth a good amount if I pawned it. Because I need some money. POOR INNER CITY YOUTH HERE. (LOL)


If God were to whisper one thing in your ear, what would you like Him to say?

" Heyy chile, Let me tell you how that George Bush.... let me stop gossiping. I LOVE your shoes. Rubber, I'm so glad I created that. Boy I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, you know you already in heaven. HMM MMM. Already got your mansion picked out, right next to Jesus's. I wanted to tell you about your life's purpose. But you know if you knew, you'd be kind of mad. BUT DIVA IT'S MARVELOUS, STAY IN THEM BOOKS CHILE, YOU GOT A WAYS TO GO. JUST KEEP LIVING, I'M HERE BABY." ( God is a woman in my head everyone. LOL)



-Marz

Something Something

I'm feeling really self conscious today. I'm feeling self conscious about EVERYTHING but mainly my level of intelligence.


The pastor's wife called last night................................

This will make sense soon.

I know I'm SMART. ( Do I though?)

-Marz

Sex Plans 1

STD FREE YEAH BABY!!


This has been one of the roughest weeks of m life. ( snif) I just dind't know man. I could've caught....let me stop being dramtic.

HOWEVER,

After getting my results I have decided that I want to write about one of the plans I have for me. I WANT TO STAY ABSTINENT AND A VIRGIN UNTIL I GET MY DEGREES.

I know that is a lot, but in going through this strenuous week. (LOL) I have been thinking about how many people out there have stuff, and what I want in my life sexually.


When I say this to certain people they are like, “bitch please”. Many point out how they couldn’t do it, how I lost my mind, how I’m not going to do it, and how when I leave my parents strict rules I’m going to become a whore.(HEYY!) Now I’m not saying that this is not true, but I think that I should have some sort of plan when it comes to my virginity or having sex in general. People think because they are a certain age they are ready to have sex, and they aren't. There are 60 year olders that are't ready, and there are some 12 year olders who are. (Not saying they should, but whatever.) I need to get over one of my childhood scars of being naked in front of other boys. (LOL funny story I'll write it later.)

Also their is this HUGE majority of people who think I have this young, hip, spry love life, or romantic life. NO. Boys laugh at me and make fun of my shoes. And then when I say that people are like, "Aww you'll get the one day". WHY WOULD I WANT THEM? Boys are just a distraction from things that are more important, but sometimes their distractions can be fun. (ORGASMS HEYY!)But then their games, nonsense, foolishness, lack of training is not cute. And PLEASE, if I wanted one or five I could have them. (It's just the truth.)


I have asked SEVERAL people to recount their virginity stories, and about 98% make this FACE. This face says, "I’d rather not”, or , “boy, don’t go there” And I’m sure many of you are thinking about when you lost yours, and you probably want to instill some type of lesson to me about losing it or whatever.(GO AHEAD. I'm young and need some education and will take it.LOL) This also shows me some people’s true natures. Meaning that they can’t keep it in their pants. I mean I should have my degress by the age of 20 or 19 depending on how I work it. That is only four years, and truthfully I don’t plan on giving my BODY to any ole fool off the street. I’m willing to go up until 34, just like Jesus did. After that I’m selling it on ebay. (LOL but I’m for real).


Some people try to lie to themselves, but I know how I am. And the chances of me becoming a sex addict are SO UP THERE. Not only is addiction, in general, genetic in my family, because we can get addicted to ANYTHING real quick. I know how sometimes masturbating becomes like a vice of mine. I had a hard day, BAM. I didn’t get enough sleep, BAM. Angry, BAM. I could totally see myself not being able to handle all the responsibilities of I guess rationing out sex time and the rest of the world time. Because I am going to love it ALL. Ass, dick, tongue hand abs, stomach, EVERYTHING. And once this BEAST is released the cage is going to be far from my mind for a GOOD WHILE. (Who knows though). But especially in college, I could see me passing up a class to get some head, give some head, WHATEVER. (LOL)

Sometimes I think about whomever this person may be, and how I am going to run them through the mud chasing after me. I want him to make me chase him through the mud too.(Mud wrestling HMMM LOL) I’d like to love him. Because I was reading an article in ELLE that said, whoever you lose your virginity to your brain release these ”attachment chemicals" that makes you want to stay with that person for a good while, no matter what they do.



Is this true?

MAny of yall sometimes question what young Marz looks for in a dude. Well I'm not like older homosexuals (lol inside joke. not older mos, but older homosexuals. LOL) who have their list, and it's like, "must have at least three Prada suits in their closet". " B.M.I must be (fill in blank)". I'll write a post out one day about what I look for, but now I'm looking at my books.


I have this REALLY STRONG feeling that whoever he is, he’s going to cheat on me. I guess that is like not a good thought, but I can just feel it. (It’s like a premonition of some sorts.) OMG. I can’t wait to see me dealing with men. How will I do it? What will I do? Will I act like my mother? Will I be mature? Will I play games?


But I know when it’s happening I want to not have any regrets. Even IF we break up in the future afterwards, and I meet my husband, I’m still like, “I’m glad it went to August and not Devon”. I don’t know. I need to put more thought into this person, and my requirements. But seeing as I’m not really thinking about boys, and I have all the time in the world, I'm in no rush. Because there will always be boys. Besides, I know that I'm going to have a few men right there condomed lubed and ready to go, and then I'm going to be like, "this isn't right". And leave them rock hard ALONE. (See that is how you get raped. MESS. OMG. I'm so going to do that. I'm soo evil. LOL)

Today I'm kind of slutty aren't I? Hey, it's whatevr.

Now personally, even though VIRGINITY TAKER (LOL) might cheat on me. Truthfully, I’m going to want to go out and be all wide and whorish after my first. And I admit that, but still. Right now I need to stay in my books, and get my work done. I’m going to college for my degrees and not for boys, they will be around after I walk down the aisle. (For my degrees. LOL) Also, I've noticed that every so often I get ahead of myself. I'm always thinking about this or that one in a sexual way. When truthfully, I still have to get my first hand holding, kiss, eye stare, hug. (LOL)

I know FOR SURE that in the process of losing it, I want a few songs to play. (LOL) I definitely want, "Reasons" by Earth, Wind,&Fire. "Love of my life", by Ms. Badu. Say Yes, Lay Down, and I want you by Floetry. (I don't know why I'm picking all these long songs when it's going to last about three seconds. LOL) I want Me, Myself and I by Ms. Holiday to play afterwards. I'm SOOO going to stare into his eyes and say, "what are you thinking?" (LMAO) And of course I want to hear, "I'm mixed, because I don't think my soul will encounter another experience like that in this life or the ones to come." (LOL. I know I'm a mess.)

GROWING PAINS

Yesterday my whore moans were acting UP. I was getting these really strong erections and they HURT. It felt like someone tied a chain around my dick and was pulling it on a tow truck. (So I'm guessing it's growing, yes, no, someone tell me something.) Then it got so sensitive to EVERYTHING, and it felt so good. Then it got EXTRA HOT FIRE, not burning like gonorrhea, but HOT. And I could feel my juices like running faster because of the heat. I went into a bad case of heat, I was in my classes, and I couldn't think. I just kept thinking how badly I wanted to be in a 69 position. I was trying to focus, and I kept mentally screaming, "CALM down, take notes". It hurt then it didn't hurt, then it felt TOO GOOD, then I couldn't think. I was a few seconds from banging my head into the table. I can't afford to not take notes for such foolishness. I remember in my Calculus class, I had to adjust it the right way because the bell was about to ring. Right between my legs then walking like I had a limp.(LOL) No on saw, or at least no one put on to seeing. WHATEVER. So, bad whore moans, but YAYYYY for penis growth. (LOL)WHOA TWO INCHES By 17 TOO HOT. (LOL)




So my questions for everyone today are:



DO YOU REGRET THE PERSON YOU GAVE YOUR VIRGINITY TO?



DID YOU HAVE ANY TYPE OF “ATTACHMENT CHEMICALS" RELEASED THAT MADE YOU STAY LONGER THAN YOU SHOULD’VE WITH THAT PERSON?

WHAT REPULSES OTHER SUITORS? (I feel like I'm just siphoning some bitterness out of some people now. But I need to repulse people from me to stay PURE. LOL)

After all, I would rather have my degrees listed in my eulogy instead of, "Marcus had lot's of sex". (LOL)


P.S. Yesterday for some strange reason I was on the good old black planet. (Blackplanet is so sixth grade; I remember signing up at 12. LOL) I came across this page where this man wanted to receive anal sex from a woman using a strap-on. NO WORDS.


-Marz

Sexually Transmitted Diseases and Infections

Quick Sidebar: To my blog fam, yall are crazy and made me smile with yall emails. (LOL. Especially you Lee. LOL) Everyone else will get the full scoop on next Sunday, and the fam will get more extra details, because, I didn't want to elongate the email. JUST KNOW IT'S DRAMA FILLED, AND THERE IS STILL STUFF YET TO HAPPEN. I NEED TO FURTHER PROCESS IT. (The life I live.) Also, when you reply to a chain e-mail you have to erase the other emails, so everyone doesn't know what you said to the person who you were replying to. (LOL. Well you don't, but some of yall replied to the whole gang. LOL) But I got yall. (Smiles) I can say one thing, my childhood and teenagehood are turning me into one emotionally STRONG man. (I'm gon' rule the world. LOL)
************************************************************************************

So in waiting for my STI tests to return today. I've decided a few things, along with I need to inform some of you readers.

After posting I have received some emails about not testing for other disease. I think that we as a whole have been so concerned about HIV/AIDS, that wE fail to realize there are more than 5 other STD's out there, and only a few are curable. So Marz future sex therapist/porn company owner is here to teach. GATHER ROUND CHILDREN, IT'S TIME TO LEARN.

Chlamydia-Chlamydia is one of the most common sexually transmitted infections worldwide - — about 4 million cases of chlamydia occur in the USA each year. Not all people exhibit symptoms of chlamydia. About half of all men and three-quarters of all women who have chlamydia have no symptoms and do not know that they are infected. The infection is transmitted by the Chlamydia trachomatis bacterium. It can be serious but it is easily cured if detected in time. It is also, and possibly more importantly, the biggest preventable cause of blindness in the world. Blindness occurs as a complication of trachoma (chlamydia conjunctivitis). More here.

Syphillis- Syphilis (historically called lues) is a sexually transmitted disease (STD) that is caused by a spirochaete bacterium, Treponema pallidum. Syphilis has many alternate names, such as: Miss Siff, the Pox (or greatpox, to distinguish it from smallpox), and has been given many national attributions, e.g. the "French disease" or the "English disease". More here.

Gonorrhea-Gonorrhoea (slang term "the clap") is among the most common curable sexually transmitted diseases in the world and is caused by the Gram-negative bacterium called Neisseria gonorrhoeae.
Infection with gonorrhea increases the risk of becoming infected with HIV (human immunodeficiency virus, the virus that causes AIDS). This is likely due to weakening of the mucosal surface secondary to the gonorrhea infection. Note, however, that this effect is by no means limited to gonorrhoea and there is increased risk of HIV transmission with co-infection of most sexually transmitted infections (STIs - Sexually Transmitted Infections).
The first place this bacterium infects is usually the columnar epithelium of the urethra and endocervix. Non-genital sites in which it thrives are the rectum, the oropharynx and the conjunctivae (eyes). The vulva and vagina in women are usually spared because they are lined by stratified epithelial cells, so, in women, the cervix is the usual first site of infection.
Gonorrhoea spreads during sexual intercourse. Infected women also can pass gonorrhea to their newborn infants during delivery, causing eye infections in their babies. This complication is now rare because newborn babies receive eye medicine to prevent infection. When the infection occurs in the genital tract, mouth, or rectum of a child, it is most commonly due to sexual abuse. More here.


Herpes- The herpes simplex virus (HSV) (also known as Cold Sore, Night Fever, or Fever Blister) is a virus that manifests itself in two common viral infections, each marked by painful, watery blisters in the skin or mucous membranes (such as the mouth or lips) or on the genitals. The disease is contagious, particularly during an outbreak, and is incurable with present technology. An infection on the lips is commonly known as a "cold sore" or "fever blister," though this should not be confused with a canker sore, which appears inside the mouth and is not caused by the herpes simplex virus. More here.

Genital Warts- Genital warts (or condyloma, or condylomata acuminata) is a highly contagious sexually transmitted disease. Caused by some variants of the Human papillomavirus, typically HPV 6 and HPV 11, it is spread during oral, genital, or anal sex with an infected partner. About two-thirds of people who have a single sexual contact with a partner with genital warts will develop warts, usually within three months of contact.
Genital warts often occur in clusters and can be very tiny or can spread into large masses in the genital or anal area. In women the warts occur on the outside and inside of the vagina, on the opening (cervix) to the womb (uterus), or around the anus. While genital warts are approximately as prevalent in men, the symptoms of the disease may be less obvious. When present, they usually are seen on the tip of the penis. They also may be found on the shaft of the penis, on the scrotum, or around the anus. Rarely, genital warts also can develop in the mouth or throat of a person who has had oral sex with an infected person. More here.


Trichomoniasis- sometimes referred to as "trich" or the ping pong disease, is a common sexually transmitted disease that affects 2 to 3 million Americans yearly. It is caused by a single-celled protozoan parasite Trichomonas vaginalis. Trichomoniasis is primarily an infection of the genitourinary tract; the urethra is the most common site of infection in men, and the vagina is the most common site of infection in women. More here.



Pubic Lice-Crab lice (singular, louse), scientific name Phthirus pubis and commonly called "crabs" due to their resemblance to the crab, are one of three kinds of human lice in the large group of lice families, the others being head lice and body lice, which live in clothing. They are wingless, about 1 to 3 mm long. They attach themselves to hair strands, and hatch out of pods with lids, or "nits", that are too tightly attached to be brushed off but must be removed by pulling with the nails or a fine-toothed comb. More here.


Hepatits B- Originally known as serum hepatitis, hepatitis B has only been recognized as such since World War II, and has caused current epidemics in parts of Asia and Africa. Hepatitis B is recognized as endemic in China and various other parts of Asia. Over one-third of the world's population has been or is actively infected by hepatitis B virus (acronym HBV). More here.


Hepatitis C- Hepatitis C is a blood-borne viral disease which can cause liver inflamation, fibrosis, cirrhosis and liver cancer.
The hepatitis C virus (HCV) is spread by blood-to-blood contact with an infected person's blood. Many people with HCV infection have no symptoms and are unaware of the need to seek treatment. Hepatitis C infects an estimated 150-200 million people worldwide. It is the leading cause of liver transplant. More here.


Scabies- Scabies is a transmissible ectoparasite skin infection characterized by superficial burrows, intense pruritus (itching) and secondary infection. The word 'scabies' is Latin for 'itch'.. More here.



Anyone who reads me normally knows how I am about sex. I LOVE the subject. So many topics, and ways to break it down. But they also know I am a big advocate for safe sex. And I'm really thinking about becoming a sex therapist. I told my mother, and she was like, " WOW. just... WOW." She went on to tell me they make tons of money, and I'd be a good therapist, but I'd be too blunt with the people. But then she was all, " you know that deals with people of all... um... sexualities?" ( I roll my eyes at her.) I'm all for having HOT STEAMY PASSIONATE MULTI-ORGASMIC SEX, but it shouldn't leave you worrying about any of these, or HIV. ( But today we aren't focusing on that one.)


GO GET TESTED.

There is so much more out there than just HIV, and you can catch all of these through sexual contact. Some just from kissing. Be here tomorrow to find out my results. (Although we ALL know that I'm negative. I haven't even held hands with anyone yet. LOL)

References : wikipedia. Don't want to get sued. (LOL)

P.S. Whoever SHan is I'm going to need you to email me directly. I WANT TO MEET YOU. (LOL) You other bloggers who dont have e-mail responses to your commens are a mess. (LOL)


-Marz

Martian Discoveries 1

OMG YOU WILL NEVER BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED IN CHURCH. I'LL WRITE ABOUT IT SOON, I MUST FIRST COUNCIL WITH THE FAM.

Until then enjoy this.


My mind is constantly moving, ,and because I am always by myself; I analyze ALL my thoughts. I sometimes think some crazy things, that unlike others my age, I try to find the psychology behind it. My self analyzations allow me to look at my thoughts and see why I’m thinking it, and what it’s tied to. Doing this has enabled me independently deal with some of my previous issues such as: cutting, suicide, depression, etc. All this is to say, this weekend I looked over some thoughts I was having, and some things in my life; and I learned a few things about myself.


DESERVING


On , I had the dream that I was a REAL gay teen. I went to parties, had friends, and did things that ( I want to say in my mind, but I KNOW) other gay teens do. I always feel like I’m missing out on this HUGE part of my life. Because I guess my sexuality is a part of my life. ( Not as HUGE as it once was in my confusion.) But the best analogy I could think of, is being mixed between two races that have DEEP culture, and only getting to experience one culture. You long to find out more about your other side, to experience the things that other people who are that same ethnicity experience ( sexuality) experience. I don’t get to do that. Often times I think to myself that I shouldn’t be hype because EVERYTHING will still be there when I get there, and after I leave. But then I start to think about the age when I’ll be ready will I even want to be that person in my dream. Because people are always noting how mature I am now, when I’m 18 I hope to GOD that I am on another plane of thinking, acting, reacting, experienceing life. So it’s like will I even want the same things when I’m older. ( I hope not.) And even though logic hits me saying, then why want them now. I know that what I want now is like interrelated with my age. ( does anyone get that?)

It’s like how a child who is 7 may want to go to Chuckie Cheese’s but his parents won’t let him. Although he may know when he is 12 he won’t care about not going to Chuck E Cheeses, and tries to think, " If I’m not going to care when I’m older than why care nmow". He still cares, and then he starts to think about how he’s missing out ons omething that everyone else got to experience. ( I feel like I’m not making sense, but I get it. I guess this post may be hard for the readers.)

I think about the rallies, parades, and the pride events, and the EVERYTHING that I’m missing. And although I know I could say to myself, " You ain’t missing nuffin trick calm down". I DON’T REALLY KNOW THAT? And although others may say that, who is to say what I am and am not missing.

IN my times of desperation about the part of me that feels SO DAMN NEGLECTED. I start to think about how I DESERVE to be immersed in the gay part of me. I take honors and AP classes, I take college courses. I’m a good child. I’m not doing anything bad, sneaking behind my parents back doing anything, ( except maybe this blog. ( Which they haven’t even made a rule on. LOOPHOLE. lol) Than the rational part of me says, "You don’t deserve your next breath, shut up and read a book." ( Yeah he’s mean.LOL) But it’s somewhat true, no one DESERVES anything. Nothing is promised to us, our next breath, tomorrow, NOTHING. So why do I think that I should be rewarded for doing thigns that I’m supposed to do? I mean I’m not taking these classes for my parents, they are for me. Why should I be rewarded for doing something that is benefitting me?


Another part of me feels that I’m DESERVING because I KNOW who I am in more ways than many my age. ( LAWD knows I have MUCH to learn about myself in years to come.) And most of these other people sort of take the things they do and get to experience for granted, so I feel like I’m more deserving of these experiences. Because I'm not confused, and a whole slew of other things.Kind of like how the rich take money for granted, but the poor know the value, and feel they deserve it or to at least ONCE experience having opulence because they never have. ( I think my analogies are WAY OFF today.) I also feel envious ( WHEW that one is hard to admit) because there are other people who are like, " I've been in the gay life since 12". ALso because the LIFE starts SO EARLY nowadays, and 18 is EXTRA late in today's time. But I had to realize that what happened for one person may not be good for me. But thank god I have street smarts and stuff, otherwise I'd be getting drugged at my first event. ( Not saying gay people drug others, but some may.)


I feel like I’m missing out on SO MUCH, ALL THE TIME. I’m trying to find a way to not feel this way, it’s hard. I’ll get it soon.

it- ( for those who may be curious) to conspire with other gay teens for something positive.

BOOKS BEFORE BOYS. (For those who think I'm working off of whore moans.)


BLAME GAMES

This weekend after reviewing some more thoughts I realized that I blame my parents for a lot of things. I mean in all essence, they are the reason I don’t have a social life, and no mistakes to learn from. But then I guess that I’m glad that I haven’t made mistakes, and I can watch EVERYONE else and learn from their mistakes. (Thank all of the other bloggers for living their lives, and allowing me to learn what not to do in certain scenarios.) But I sometiumes I take it to the extreme with my parents and what I blame them for. Alright, yes they are strict and whatever. But when I begin to blame them for how I act in places like Saturday school for not talking to the cute boy or stuff. IT HAS GOTTEN TOO INSANE. I always have logic to back this up, " Well, if I talked to him and got his number I couldn’t call him because of my phone limitations. We couldn’t do anything, because my parents would want to meet him first and they wouldf question his orienation. I don’t have time to meet him for anything, because my life is so filled because my parents make my house unbearable to live. If it wasn’t for the unbearableness of my house, I wouldn’t have to fill my life with so much, and I’d have time to go shopping with moeboy. For all of these reasons I’m not going to look at him." But then at fist it starts out alright, but then I’m like, " BOY SHUTUP. That doesn’t even make sense". I realized that because I can blame my parents for certain things, like not being in the gay culture part of my life; that I feel I can blame them for almost EVERYTHING that happens in my life that is unfavorable. Or when I do or don’t do something that I can say, " it’s because my parents are strict ministers". Now of course I’m not blowing up buildings and blaming it on my parents, it’s tiny things. But I don’t’ want this htought process to escalate, because then I’ll be grown trying to rationalize my actions by the way I was raised, and my lack of fun and experiences.


This leads me into my next realization. ON Wednesday some of yall gave me some good advice. Although I may know some things, I AM CLUELESS ABOUT SO MUCH. And I’m not ashamed to admit it. I love to learn, especially is it can be the easy way. Some of the bloggers commented saying that my life is mine, and that I SHOUld be in control of it. Now of course legally, and authority wise they control me. But I realized that I give my parents TOO much control over me. When I’m not around them I let their morals and rules control my actions when there serves no purpose. I’m wise enough to make my own choices, and I do make my opwn choices. But there are sometimes when I don’t do things because of what I was raised in, or what if my parents found out, or what they would say when I presented it to them. This weekend I took control of my life, because each day that I live now as a boy, I am one step closer to being a man. ( that sounds kind of sexy. MARZ the man. LOL) REAL MEN, acorrding to what I was taught, take responsiblity for themselves, and when you BLAME someone for your actions YOU aren’t taking responsibilty. Also when you are grown lettinf someone else take control of your life, you aren’t living for you. And I KNOW, because I’ve done it, if you are living for someone else, YOU AREN’T HAPPY. And I’ll be damned if I live a HORRIBLE childhood an uneventful teenagehood, to be grown and in the house because of what mommy said once. And then instead of doing something about my situation,blaming daddy for doing this, because if he hadn’t then I would be enjoying my life.


I WILL BE HAPPY AS AN ADULT, HELL I’M GOING TO BE HAPPY AS A TEENAGER.


Although I may not be able to experience life to it’s fullest, there are certain limits which I haven’t even stepped near. And maybe on the boundaries I can see over the horizon what it is that makes me happy. That thing that in the midst of destruction I can still smile.

Many people think things, and don’t try to look over it, and see why they thought it, and if that thought is allowed to fester it starts to poison. Because things must change and if they don’t they become stagnant. Stagnant things rot, decay, rust, and cause death. Now that I have realized these things, it is my decision to advance and build upon these realizations, or be stagnant and allow myself to die.

Life is a constant identification of the fragments of one's soul.-Marz

Once I piece my fragments together, I'll be able to find out who I am.

I feel like something that was sleeping has been awakened inside me, and I like it. I really do.

P.S. Statcounter Sunday will be back next week.

-Marz

WEEKEND DEPRESSION 1

The weekends are always such hard times for me. It’s the time when the realization that I don’t have friends, or a life. Also, that my youth is wasting away hits me. During the week I have school, or an extra curricular, or work to keep me busy. But like running in the cold, once you slow down you realize how cold and lonely you really are. I should get over it, my weekends have been like this FOREVER, its nothing new. But yet every weekend I always get sucked into this vortex of pain. I don’t know, but I’m so tired of being sucked into it.

Every weekend I also try to capture my feelings in word. I always think because I have the same feelings that I could capture them with a few words, but the right ones never come.
I feel like...

I feel like my better youthful days are running out. Like I’m wasting the time in my life to be a fool, not saying I’d want to be one. Soon I’ll be an adult, and I’ll be sitting looking at another part of my life that I missed like my childhood; but because I wouldn’t want to relapse in myself I’d keep on pushing towards the associations granted with my age.
But going to a mall, conversing with someone my age about something that wasn’t so damn heavy or important. Everyone says these are the best days of my life, everyone says to enjoy my youth, everyone says they wish they could redo their teenage years, explore their youth with the eyes of their adulthood. A better majority say that they wish they were me experiencing their teenage years, because I have an "old soul". ( Whatever the hell that means.)
I’m tired of having this damn old soul, if its my damn crippler. The reason why I’m so damn weird.

I feel like maybe this is who I am, this boring mundane person who sits in Border’s listening to clips of music and reading books to waste an hour to get home at 3. I wonder if I’m blaming my parents for their rules to not look at the fact that I don’t have a spirit. And when I get to college will the truth finally be revealed to me of who I really am. Will everyday become a weekend, will I stop running and feel the cold of the weekend on a Tuesday? Will I be up in my dorm on a Friday night reading a damn book instead of enjoying my life? Do I know how to enjoy anything, I don’ think I do. I DON’T EVER HAVE FUN. ( It’s of the devil you know.)


Sitting in my window staring out, looking at the ghetto. It depresses me.
The other day I saw a group of 10 year olders smoking weed. I saw an eight year older make a drug run. Ran right to the car, and CRUSHED my heart. The other day some thugs, my age, tried to taunt me or planned to jump me or something.

I’m tired of my window being my only escape from oppression, but it leads me right to it; just like a welfare line. I’m tired of having to be home early on weekends to go nowhere, except maybe Wal-Mart. I’M TIRED OF KNOWING THAT I KNOW THE WAL-MART STAFF AT BOTH OF THE ONES WE GO TO. But what really scares me is when I ask my parents what we’re doing, and they answer, " What do you wanna do?" I DON’T KNOW. Why do I keep complaining is I don’t have a place to go. Maybe because I know we’re too poor to go anywhere, or that it’s of the devil.

I WANT TO WRITE HOW I FEEL WHILE IN MY ROOM, BUT THEN IT MIGHT BE FOUND. I’M TIRED OF LIVING LIKE A CONVICT.

It’s so hard being unique sometimes. It’s so hard not fitting in with ANYONE, ANYWHERE, AT ANY GIVEN TIME. And if I did find someone I did fit in with I’d feel like I wasn’t genuine or unique enough. I’m forcing myself into this circle of tired hardness. There is no puzzle for me to fit into, I don’t fit in with the neighborhood people, school people, anyone. It’s hard being the only piece to a puzzle, to be jagged and ugly, and contorted at an edge, and have a squiggly hanging off. It’s hard to work on your one piece, yourself, and make yourself into the square that can brilliantly show a picture. AM I DISPLAYING ANYTHING WORTH LOOKING AT NOW? WILL I EVER BE ANYTHING TO LOOK AT?

Am I even really unique? Or am I one of those people who survive off their own steam?

Damn I wish I wasn’t so worried about other people, it irks me so much that I’m actually showing emotions caring about what others think. That, in my opinion, is such a huge character flaw, caring about what others think. I shouldn’t care if anyone sees me in my one puzzled piece self. Reflected on a mirror I could see me, and know what to look for, and there’s always God. But wait there is no one who cares to look anyway so it doesn’t matter, for something not looked at can’t be seen RIGHT?

I’m tired of being sad every weekend, I’m tired of not being able to capture my sadness in words. Maybe these tears in my eyes can do it, I’m off to cry.

I’ll be okay soon, Monday is slowly approaching and I can start my run self denial of being boring and whatever else.

************************************************************************************

That last part was written at a different moment so don't mind that too much. So my cousin HOLY has started to appear at things that I do. For instane he was at this AIDS conference I was at on memorial day, and in the middle he started screaming, " homosexuality is an abomination in the eyesight of God, and that ius why they're all going to burn in hell". In May the library puts together this conference full of teens, and they miss a full day of school, excused absense, and learn things. At the last planning meeting, HOLY is there, aAND HE WORKS AT THE LIBRARY. Not mine, but at another one. But the thing is, he didn't say a WORD to me. And he didn't say anything today.

I mean we don';t have to be best friends, but he could speak. I don't really want to tpseak to him though, because he is ALWAYS trying to make EVERYTHING a competition. Like today he was looking at my clothes like a gay man, trying to see who was dressed better. At the last meeting, when we played the two truths and a lie game, he got this really jealous look when he found out I was going to Colege classes. He has always wanted to be better than me, and I've never really cared to compete. He always wants to outshine me everytime we meet, like how someone muight do at a ten year reunion. The one person is so intent on making the other person look bad, and the other person, first doesn't care, and second is doing better than the first person. I DON"T KNOW. Whatever.

I've been flirting with boys today, WHAT IS GOING ON? I need to get with a book QUICK. Before I get deflowered. Also, I have a plan that I'm going to institute pretty soon, and.....well... you'll see.




-Marz