I've got the weary blues

Has anyone ever wanted to die? Not in a suicidal type of way, but you just grow weary of the intricacies and mediocrities of life.


I’m there.


Recently I’ve been going through so much. Trying to get this grade in this college class, because I have to pass the next class in the summer, to be able to take Calculus at college in the fall. Because I’d be damned if I sit in an AP block period class all year, and still create a possibility of not getting college credit.


I’m over college stress, because I know I’m DEFINITELY going to be accepted somewhere, it’s just if that somewhere is right for me, and if it’s the somewhere I want to go. But right now I can definitely get into four out of my six choices.


The other day I expressed to one of my new co-workers the dread I was feeling about going to the Friday concert. She didn’t understand in which case I had to break down the important elements of the pstor’s family and the exorcsim BLAH BLAH BLAH. I’M ANGRY THAT IT’S THREE OMONTHS LATER AND I’M STILL TALKING ABOUT THIS NONSENSE. I’M ANGRY THAT THESE PEOPLE CONTINUE TO BRING IT UP AND I HAVE TO AVOID THEM EVERY WEEK BECAUSE THEY ARE SO INSANE. This has become that guest you reluctantly invite to Thanksgiving dinner, and three months later you look up and ask, " WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?" But I can’t say that to them.


During the talk I expressed my deep frustration of how the pastor’s family views me and how they try to throw their views of me onto me like that is how I really am. " They say that I hate myself and whenever I hate myself a lor I just go to South Street and find some random man and have sex in an alleyway to make myself feel better." One of my other co-workers that was in the conversation, who is gay, said to me, " Well Marcus, that is normal homosexual behaviour." I wanted to sit and argue about how that’s not true and stereotypes and blah blah, but then he just said, " You’ll see in a few years when you go to bars, and clubs that it isn’t too far from what you juts said". The words he said affected me SO much for some strange reason. The way he just said it. The way he referred to homosexuals as if they are a species of animal just performing their natural instincts, and the fact that I couldn’t sit and argue that that isn’t true. And overall the fact that that’s how I’m viewed.


Growing up a black male in the ghetto I’ve been told from the age of nine that I was supposed to be having sex. Inever did. I was made to feel like I was less than on so many aspects, and the coclusion was that I was gayvs eeing as I wasn’t having sex. But then as I came around gay people the subliminal message went from, " Why aren’t you having sex?" to ," DAMN YOU AREN’T HAVING SEX". I think in me stating I’m celibant I gain something that I didn’t have back then. Because I would feel so bad that I wasn’t having sex. I wasn’t cool like the other boys, I WASN’T LIKE THE OTHER BOYS. I know personally I achieve like a personal growth over something I felt so abd over to now having a venue where I can, sort of, take pride in that fact. It’s like how I did used to hate myself, and did use to have low self esteem, and now when I can write that I love myself, it’s like visually seeing my growth. ( Does that make sense? It does to me.)



I also feel like in a world that the subliminal or overall mesage from older gay men are JUST HAVE SEX. That I’m creating a place where I can be looked to, not as a role model , but as one that other gay youths or men can say, " I don’t have to assimilate to the ways of other people". I don’t have to have sex in an alleyway.


Because the older mos are just a hot mess, and they are pushing their nasty contorted ways onto the youth.

IT WILL NOT BE ME. ( my new catch phrase.)


They are so messed up.


Half not being able to create a relationship because they are so busy trying to deteremine one as the male and female, when the whole point is to have two males, or two females.


So hurt and rejected by their families, instead of dealing with their own issues they bury them and move on and then try to build a messy relationship on an unstable foundation.


The others so neglected, doing anything to be seen, heard, visualized, get the attention they are missing.


The ones so self hating that they are trying to find love in sex.


IT WILL NOT BE ME. ( God please don’t let it be me. PLEASE.)


But it seems like whenever I bring questions about sex, or sexuality, there is this crowd that is saying, " SHUT UP SHUT THE HELL UP YOU’RE TOO YOUNG AND NAIVE TO KNOW ANYTHING. SO WHAT I’M HAVING SEX IN AN ALLEYWAY YOU WOULDN’T KNOW HOW MUCH OF A RUSH IT IS. IT FULFILLS MY FANTASY TO BE TAKEN BY A HOMOTHUG IN THE SHADOWS. I don’t feel there is nothing at all wrong with sex, but there are components that are wrong with it for certain people. But that’s there life.


I know I want more than just some messed up man off the road. I know personally I’m not matrue to handle sex, and I beliueve that SOOO many other people aren’t but feel as though they are because they’re grown. ( Which means a bit of a damn in my book.)
But then when someone comes to me and then just throws their views of how they see me onto me, it’s just tormenting.

I could see If they said, " WE view you as a self hating hoe". Because people view me in so many different ways, and I don’t care. But when someone comes to me and says, " you’re a slef hating hoe, and you need to come to church every week so we can monitor your ways". It’s like not only offensive to who I am and how I try to live and keep myself; but it’s...it’s....cloaking who I really am. I’ve been trying to hold myself in a certain poise, and it’s like people are not only creating their own videotapes of me not being poised, but trying to throw rocks in my path as I try to wlak down the damn street.



It’s like if I was fat someone asking, " how many bottles of canola oil do you drink a day"

Skinny: "How much crack do you snort?"


Black: "How many times have you been to jail?"




Black female:’ How many children do you have?"




Latino; " Did you come here legally?"


But instead of these questions being asked, I drink 18 bottles of canola oil a day, and I snort 3 kilos every week, and I’ve been to jail 6 times, and my mother has 16 children by 15 different men, and I came here during Katrina on a canoe, so I wouldn’t get caught in all the havoc.
I’m angry that I’m still on this event. I’m angry that these people continue to come at me with their insinuations. I’m livid that our community is so stereotyped that I was concluded by being seen around 13th street wearing a damn scarf.


I’m furious that the word homosexual has changed from homo beingan adjective meaning s "same," to a noun describing who a person is. Sex from being a noun describing gender, to the verb of two( or more) bodies englufed all trying to reach a climax, and the ual from jsut being there ( because I don’t know what it’s part is in the word) to being U ALL. HOMOS-SEX-U-ALL. ( That was a bit cornya t the end, but the other stuff is TRUE!)


I’m growing very tired of being associated with this community that leaves such a nasty tinge on my name. I’m tired of trying toargue for thios community and being scoffed at. I’m beginning to not care anymore. The same way I stopped caring for black people when those to boys tried to rob me for my food. (JUST SO DAMN GHETTO!)


So in my swirling mass of intricate mediocrities. I’m going to take some me time. I’m currently deciding between a manicure, or going to see, " the devil wears prada". I love Ms. Hathaway, whose father may just slightly be Donnie Hathaway, who is always great. I think I’m goignt to go to the movies, it’s cheaper. Nad since I have my college id ( so cool even though I’m really in high school) I get the discount. I need to go somewhere where all my issues, questions, concerns can be neglected for a short while and I can just go away from them. I might even make a new male friend this weekend. I have so few because I don’t play well with other boys.( They aren’t on my level, and I hate having to treat a friend as a child.)


Has anyone ever wanted to die? Not in a suicidal type of way, but you just grow weary of the intricacies and mediocrities of life, and want it all to end. I’m a bit weary today. I’ve got the wear blues Langston wrote about.



-Marz

Randomness a la blog

I wonder if I put some marijuana leaves in my ass Sean Paul try to eat me out.

Maybe even Snoop Dogg.

Why hasn’t he created a Boys gon wild? I guess it would be too easy seeing as boys have no self restraint.

I hate when men talk to my ass instead of me like my ass can speak.

Although it has lips, it does not have a tongue in it.

Yet.

Don’t you hate when you find something out so mind blowing and you want to disclose it but then you’d have to reveal how you found out this information?

Like if I told you that Angelina Jolie has a pungent vagina odor.


You’d want to know how I know right? You’d want me to tell you that I sniffed her panties once right?

I hate when I work the fitting room and the women don’t put the bikinis back on the hanger.

I feel so nasty touching, basically, their vagina.

I especially hate when the bottoms or tops are wet.

EWWW with your sweaty breasts and vagina.

Can you towel down first?

And the men with their t-shirts.

I feel like the towel boy or the jockstrap cleaner for these people.

Ms. Jolie is just so poised. Someone could take a lesson from her, but I won’t say names. (But watch the transition.)

I don’t know why people are always trying to defend Jay-Z like he’s the most attractive male on Earth.

Let’s be honest if he didn’t have money no one would be looking at him. Well at least not his head, the first one. It’s his money that has helped him become attractive.

Not saying he doesn’t deserve love for being ugly, but he’s not an attractive man.

Did you get it?

Jay-Z does have those huge lips.

Is there a difference between DLS’s and coochie eating lips?

I think there is.

DSL’s are plush and curve upward as if they are forever receiving a penis.

I wouldn’t know about coochie eating lips, seeing as I wouldn’t want to put my mouth on someone’s vagina.

I’m afraid of them you know.

My mother had to get a C-Section.

I was supposed to be born June 26th, came out August 20th.

I remember this boy in middle school told me I was well equipped for giving good head.

Said I had plush lips, a long tongue, and a long neck.

Guess I was too blinded to pick up on what he just said.

I heard he had gonorrhea anyway.

The boys used to say because my tongue was longer than theirs that meant I was gay.

My tongue has gotten shorter though.

Seemy said because I have dimples I’m gay too.

I’d hate to be straight with dimples and have to go through the persecution of being gay.

Persecution, Jesus, Blood, Stain, Bleach, Water.

Am I the only person reading Hung?

It’s such a good book.

It makes your dick feel huge, then it makes it feel small.

Then it makes you want to stand up in Border’s and scream , " SO what my dick is little"

SO WHAT IT IS?

Why does the ruler on the side of the book start at 8 inches?

Damn I’m like seven inches short then? DAMN.

I heard size matters.

The size of one’s heart that is.

I heard size doesn’t matter.

I have so many theories on penis size.

I’ll write one later.

Tops don’t let these bottoms stress you out because they say your dick is little. Ask them why their pleasure points are 15 inches inside their ass. (You have to flip the game.)

Bottoms don’t let these tops stress you out saying if you knew how to roll your hips the right way he could reach his maximum length. Stress them out about having a little dick. (Be prepared to answer why your pleasure points are fifteen inches inside your rectum.)

Those people who make penis enlargement pills are a genius.

I should get into that business.

Those men could be taking multivitamins.

" I don’t know what’s in this stuff, but I feel so much healthier".

Or it could just be ecstasy and Viagra.

" It feels so MUCH BIGGER, AND IT FEELS SO GOOOOOOOOD!. Is this how it feels to have a big dick, SO TEMPTING TO TOUCH. Why’d I take it before my business meeting?"

Don’t forget to have tons of water around when you take ecstasy.

You will get thirsty and so damn hot. ( CHILE HUSH.)

I hate when gay men act as if being a top or a bottom is in their genetic coding. As if they were born a bottom. Or top, vers whatever.

I hate when gay men call someone a bottom to be derogatory.

It’s like when a straight man calls a woman a slut but wasn’t saying that when having sex with her.

OR like Timbaland calling Nelly Furtado virginal after he called her promiscuous.

What’s derogatory about being a bottom?

What’s derogatory about being a top?

Why hasn’t Charlie tackled this issue as fags hating fags 3?

(Oh gyea he’s busy. DAMN! I won’t write on it. I JUST WON"T DO IT.)

I want to have my first kiss this summer.

I want it to be on a cool summer night, with some boy I know and like. We’ll be standing near a bridge of some sort looking at water. And he’ll say something about kissing me, and then I’ll turn my head slightly really shyly, and then turn back . Then he’ll kiss me and I’ll get hard on him, and then he’ll laugh and I’ll be embarrassed but it’s okay because it’s HIM. (That’s not going to happen.) ( it could though right?)

I wonder if straight men get that feeling in their booties that they want to feel some friction in there?

From talking with some of the bloggers I see I have to define the word whore, as used by my friends and I. This is an English lesson, so GATHER ROUND CHILDREN it’s time to learn.
When I use the word, "whore". I am not using it in the form synonymous to hooker, prostitute, Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. NO. It has several uses.

1. Whore is most often used by my friend to modify a verb. Because someone who is a whore, does IT a lot. So when putting a verb in front of whore, you are saying that that person does the verb a lot. For instance, if I call you a lying whore, it’s because you lie a lot. Now it can also be that you are a whore in the standard meaning that lies, or a whore that likes to lie down when having sex. (Bad example.) I could be called a writing whore, because I write a lot.

2. Whore is synonymous, most often , with bitch and not hooker. When I call someone a whore they get all crazy, " Are you saying I sell my body for money?" ( please who’d want to buy that is what I want to answer, no matter how gorgeous they are.) But it’s more like skank.

3. Although sometimes an adjective can be used to describe the type of hoe you are, so if one is called a skank hoe. They are a hoe that is very skank.
It’s very difficult and should only be done by people who know how to do it.

Don’t you hate when you put your food down and a roach just crawls up in your food as you go run to get a fork?

DAMN!!!


I've started wearing women's clothing from my store. More specifically the maternity section clothing. Only the tanks, but they are the best, they fit SO MUCH BETTER than the men's tanks.


I've also started wearing women's deodorant. It's so much more.


MEnh's deodorant always has names like, " EXTREME THUNDER GOD," and it smells so strong.

But women's deodorant has names like, " Virginal snow bliss," and they are so basic and fragrant but aren't overbearing.

I'm loving the Dove Powder, it's so light, but effective.


I jsut spent an hour touching condoms. I feel like a condom factory worker.


LOL

I mean, I started volunteering today. It was fun, I guess. The girl I worked with was really cool.


KAW KAW.

A pterodactyl just ate me.



-Marz

SOOO BUSY

Today is SOOO busy.


My current diva list will have to be up later.


-Marz

Divas

I believe that every gay man has that woman that is their diva in their life. They are usually a singer and they are just so fierce, and today I thought I'd write about my divas growing up. And then tomorrow I could write about the ones that are current in my life. Now the diva in one gay man's life is not to be disrespected, some people could not be in a relationship with one who did not at least respect their queen, girl, MS. THANG. I think Clay put it best when saying about his girl Fiona Apple, who I've recently become attracted to also.


"Fiona has my hetero card with no expiration date! She is like an Angelina Jolie but with innocence. I was overwhelmed when I found out Fiona would be signing her CD booklet at the Virgin Megastore on Tuesday, September 20th. Some of you may not have heard of Fiona (maybe that's what's missing in your life), but this woman is the most incredible musician, lyricist, vocalist and passionate artist -- in the most ORIGINAL WAY --that I have ever heard or experienced in my adult life. Fiona has more soul in one of her farts than Beyonce Knowles has in one millisecond of a riffing and running note!!!!!!!!!!! When I listen to her music I hear myself, she is the white female version of me, and I would lick her coochie on my mammy's birthday if I had the chance!!!!!!!!!! Her music speaks to me like no other piece of art has in my life (well, running neck and neck with Prince and Janis). I don't even think I could DATE someone who didn't appreciate this woman."


BUt onto me.

My first girl came around two and that was Ms. Chaka Khan. I don't really know any of her music, but I think I jsut LOVEd saying her name. It's quite infectious. CHAKA KHAN CHAKA KHAN. ANd I loved all of her hair just flying all the time. but she was just a phase that led me to.....






TINA TURNER

THAT WAS MY GIRL FOR REAL. I remember I would dance around the room at three in my pajamas and a comb singing, " What's love got to do, go to do, got to go, got to do." I would just keep repeating, " got to do," and then I'd get tired and jump in my bed and go to sleep. I loved Tina so much. Her younger days when she was, " rolling down the river." Her other days, " In house outhouse". AHHHHHHHHH. I remember when I first saw, " what's love gotta do with it?," the movie. I was just so shocked and amazed at all she went through. My mother could't take the movie it took her a good month to watch the whole thing, because instead of just pausing the movie and picking it up from the beginning every time she watched, she would rewind it to the beginning. There are so many good parts to that movie. " You ain't even worth the bullet." such a hot mess. i don't care however depressed I may get, if I think about Angela Basset running across that highway in heels I bust out laughing. I love impersonatiing that scene. I don't think I ever really stopped liking tina, but she was moved out the way for my true love.

However, TINA STILL HAS IT, AND I DEFY A HOE TO TELL ME SHE DOESN'T. Not only does she look GOOD, but the girl can still SANG, and DANCE at the same time. More than SOOOO many people out today can do. (Especially that Ashlee Simpson. Although I do like her at times.)






WHITNEY

OHHHHHH.... I LOVED WHITNEY HOUSTON FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY SHOES. SHE WAS EVERYTHING TO ME. I think I was the ONLY six year old boy in the world to request the preacher's wife for his birthday. I never really wanted to see the bodyguard, I didn't want to see her as the diva bitch she portrayed. I remember everytime I heard her name I would turn around, and say, " What whitney WHAT?" No one could talk about my whitney, because she was mine. My mother, god bless her heart, swore I was straight because I said I was going to marry Ms. Houston. I would curse a person out if they said ANYTHING derogatory about Ms. Houston, my hand on my hip and my other hand arched in their face. "You like who? She ain't nothing to Ms. Houston. You wish she could sing all she can do is DANCE". (Third grade such a hot mess.)

I remember the whole MAriahvs. whitney thing, and I was like, " Why would anyone want to attack Whitney? She didn't hurt anyone?" I was too young to know the war that commenced with gay men who lived on the land over who was the best. I remember on one bus ride with my aunt who loves in north Philly she let me listen to Whitney's Heartbreak hotel cd, if I promised not to tell my parents. I LOVED IT. On the bus, " it's not right, but it's okay. I'm gon to make it anyway." YESSSSSS!!!!!


And then seventh grade. ( You know what happened.) I was sitting in class and I heard a group of people talking and I heard whitney's name. I turned, " What? Whitney What?" one girl told me that Whitney was on crack. I cursed that hoe up and down. how DARE she speak of Whitney in that manner. Then I saw whitney on that JAckson reunion concert. 9 YALL KNNOW WHAT I"M TALKING ABOUT.) When she came out all skinny and a hot mess. I said, " Oh lawd Jesus help Whitney". I literally walked around crying for days, jsut saying, " Why whitney why? WHY WHITNEY WHY?" I still wonder why. People begin to send me e-mails with pictures of Whitney mocking her, and I hit an all time low. I remember being in church and either the pastor said or I said, " WE need to get together and pray for Whitney Houston. She just needs the LAwd to touch her and she can get her mind together."

I had to let Ms. Houston go. It was too muych for me to continue to hold on to her. to sit in class and know that everyone was coming against me and my WHitney. I COULDN'T TAKE IT.

And I held out hope. When she was scheduled to make that appearance on Boston Public. ( YALL HOES KNOW WHAT I"M TALKING ABOUT. DON"T ACT LIKE YOU DON"T SOMEONE SAY AMEN BECAUSE YOU KNOW WHAT I"M TALKING ABOUT.)

And she got on that stage and told us she not afriad," to try....it on my own". I thought she was back. She wasn't. I had to let her go. I still have some hope for her, but I've given up.


But the good thing about Whitney is, I really only know her REALLY popular songs, the ones off of the preacher's wife, and heartbreak hotel. So once I leave the minister's house I get a chance to divulkge myself into all of her artistry before the" event," took place.



After leaving a diva it's hard to just pick one up, but after Whitney. I went and gathered up Jennifer Lopez. I remember one night being up past my bedtime and on channel 48 they played secular videos. I saw the, " Love don't cost a thing" video, and I was hooked. When she drove that car out into the woods and started dacning. I was a J.Lo child from then on. this was when she was with Puffy ( and he was called Puffy.) I remember traveling to a 9:00 show with my mother and sister to see the Wedding Planner, which is such a good movie. I remember all the controversy about J. Lo almost being shot by Puffy and he was threatening to end her life and all that stuff. I felt so bad. I was the gossip queen in my seventh grade class and everyone would gather around and her what I heard or read from the tabloids while waiting in the checkout line at the supermarket. (I was such a hot mess.)


I was on Jennifer's SIDE when she left Puffy. I was hoping she would be able to go on and be happy free from him and his mess. then came the music video war. " I'm real," was my SONG that summer. Then puffy made his, " i need a girl," and I was like, " Oh no that negro didn't". then J. Lo made the " ain't it funny" with Ja rule, and I was like, " get him gurl". But then she just up and married, washisnamedancermanthattriedandstealallhermoney, and I was like, " Who the hell is this man?" But I stood by her until she divorced him seven months later and then up and got with Ben Affleck. I had to let her go, although I was feeling, " GET RIGHT", really strong. If I was a stripper I would so always strip to that song. I love her dance in the breakdown part. HIT IT.

During thhe time of letting J. Lo go I was very conceited. Had nothing to be conceited about but there I was all loud and gawdy. That's why I know that conceited people really have low self esteem, but that's a different post. SO I had to pick someone that embodied the diva I thought I was. And there was Beyonce. I believe it was around the time of the "Survivor" cd. Beyonce was just BAM to me. She had it. She was just like, " bitches I'm here and no one is as good as me, and no one will ever be. END!!!!!" Then when they had all the shade going on in picking the third member after getting rid of the two, and getting that other girl that they let go. A lot of the girls didn't like Beyonce, because she was what the boys wanted and they founded her disgusting. But I just loved her attitude and how she wasn't chaning.

And then, so abruptly, she changed. I remember she got into a diva fight with someone. I think it was the one with Janet, and someone close to her told her it would be best to stop being so conceited and drop the diva attitude, even if it's not real, and just act humble. And I remember when she won one award she was all Alicia Keys with it. " I thank everyone who cared so much for me and voted." When a week before she was like, " Please I knew I was going to win, because I'm FOXY CLEOPATRA..... OH Oh that's in the works right now.... I mean I'm Beyonce." She always made sure that Kelly and MIchelle were badly dressed to make her shine, she always made sure to have the best lyrics of her songs, and she was the one who made the other two seem as if they needed her, AND I LOVED IT.


But when I saw that change I deemed the woman as fake and moved on from her quick. Although when she dropped her cd, I tried to resist it. Like I did with J Lo, but it didn't do me any good. I LOVE me, myself, and I. I just listen to it and get so angry. (The video for that song is extremely stupid.) And the thing that really irked me is how she tried to act all humble but she really truly wasn't. I could see if you changed, because people do change. But in "cater 2 u" video WHY WAS SHE THE ONLY ONE IN A BATHING SUIT? DID TINA RUN OUT OF SPANDEX FOR THE OTHER TWO? WHY WAS THE COMMERCIAL ALMOST TOTALLY ABOUT BEYONCE? AND WHY DID SHE ALMSOT THROW THAT LITTLE BOY TO THE GROUND? If you're going to be a diva just do it. Don't do it then try to cover it up with fake humility. THAT'S ALL I'M SAYING.



I'm not into Beyonce as much as I used to be. I don't like her new song that much. It's alright. And Jay-Z is horrible in it. One girl said it's good because :

1. He makes a baseball reference
2. He makes fun of the cops
3. He says that heb raps so good you have to be high to get him
4. He says he's banging Beyonce.


UMMMM... I don't know about anyone else. But doesn't Beyonce strike you as one who either:

1. Just lies their during sex like a dead cat. ( Dead cat=dead pussy. LOL)
2. Scream her own name during sex. ( Oh yes, he is just giving it all to BEYONCE.)

I don't know, but she doens't look like one who is in touch with her PC muscles. How to squeeze them, how not to squeeze them. If Beyonce was a gay man she'd be a 1 inch dicked top that always wants to be rode. (Where did all that anger come from? I just wish she hadn't changed and we could've been together.)

I also don't like how little girls are striving to be her because they think that's beauty and if I were straight I'd want to get down with Jill Scott before I even looked at the dead pussy named Beyonce. she could at least do something with the girls whohave low self esteem because they think the only way they can be beautfil is if they look like her, like Tyra did. DAMN STANDING UP OPRAH OH HELL NO. She is just digging herself deeper and deeper. I hope I don't see her in New York, I might have to curse her out. It really irks me when I see litle girls saying, " I'm pretty like Beyonce."


But her cd is still going to be like, "HMMMMMM...interesting," in a good way.


After that I think I chilled for a good while, and I adopted the girls that I have today that I'll be talking about tomorrow. I was trying to get pictures but the internet is down at the community college.


So who's your diva?

tomorrow I'll have my current ones, and hopefully I can post pictures.



-Marz

My anti depressing randomness

It's raining today, and I'm a little depressed.

Today, I went to the freshman orienation. They were so small, ugly, and terribly dressed. I remember when I was there. (Who said I left?)

Whenever, I get around a lot of people or noise, or noisy people; I shutdown. I go to this quiet place in my head, where there are fun math problems and just words. I don't know many of them, words that is, but they're there. I don't like being around alot of people, it brings out my inner misanthrope and I start to despise certain characteristics in other people.

I have finals tomorrow in my college class. I hope I'm prepared. I need to do well.

I promised I wouldn't stress about college anymore, but just this one comment. WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH A 1730 ON THE SAT? I'm so digusted. END.

I'm tired of these men lusting over my body. I'm oing to get morbidly obese so they leave me alone. (All right that's wrong as if they wouln't talk to me if I weighed 700 lbs. But I wouldn't be able to leave the house.) I'm tired of their lustful gazes and sloppy approaches. I'm so much more than a body and those who only see me as such are already rejected. Not like I'm open for applicants anyway. Alliteration is so nice. NIGGAS THINK I"M THE WELFARE LINE. (I'm so unPC today in my mood.)

LALALALALALALA it takes more than diamonds to move me, LALALALALALALA it takes more than material things.-Jill Scott

these little girls at my school have been approaching me. It's so unattractive seeing a female approach a male; I don't care how gay I am, it just is. Some have learned my name so they'll say it and then giggle. Some of the other girls will ask me questions making themselves known, in their own way, to me. I usually roll my eyes. " heyy boy can I play gimp with you". HOE SIT DOWN!

Like this woman in my colllege class came up to me after class and said, "oh my Gawd I just love the way you dress". Like a Caucasian cheerleader from Beverly Hills. IF THAT IS YOUR OPENING LINE TO A MAN YOU'RE INTERESTED IN, THAT SHOULD SAY SOMETHING; UNLESS IT'S KANYE OR SOMETHING. DAMN!!!. Speaking of my college class there are like four other gay men in there ( I'm a boy let's remember that everyone.) One is always staring at me, the other always acts like I'm too cute or something for him and I'm like, " AWWW, don't be like that." The other one is really aggressive and the other one is kind of smart and is always trying to be the teacher's pet. The one who is always looking at me just walked into the library and looked at me and I looked back and then he smiled and walked pass, and I started hitting myself in the head because that SOOO looks like I like him. Although I'd love to raid his shoe collection.

Some sophomores saw me at H&M and said, "Hello Marcus," to me as if we were best friends. I said hello back and the pair starting giggling. I'm like, "There is no way I'm that hot, dress that nice, or am builit like THAT to be getting all this attention". Maybe I am and I just can't see it, or don't want to see it. ( Why wouldn't I want to see it? PONDER.)


This girl, who is supposedly my fake cousin ( don't ask), is a freshman at my school. I personally don't like her. I hope her father doesn't call my father and make me talk to the child. I hope the skank doesn't tell her father I'm gay or she heard something about that to some extent, and then she tell her father who'd ring mine.

I want to tell my parents that I'm gay. Not because it involves them, because after my question sessions last week; I decided it truly is MY business and has nothing to do with them. However, I don't feel safe walking down the street. Between the gang of older men that mnake me feel seconds closer to being raped, and the gangs of straight boys itching to scrath the heel of their shoe against my head on thebpavement. I'm getting mace tomorrow. I don't know about carrying a knife yet. WHERE ARE MY COMMENTS ON THIS SITUATION???????? (This is the only place where I can get guidance on real things that are afecting my life.)

I'd like to tell my parents so they know the dangers I face by reading a book on the train, or listening to my music walking down the street. So they know to just be prepared for something. I don't know exactly. But if I was gaybashed (GOD IN HEAVEN FORBID.) I'd want to press charges as such and they would be like, " Why would you do a think like that?"


This homeless man told me, "take those damn earbuds out your ear, and stop being a goddamn faggot." I see why people don't pay him their spare change. I'd be wrong to throw a quarter in his eye and kick him in the kneecap; and I'm wearing timberlands today. I was going to go back and say, "Jesus loves you too," and give him two dollars, and make him look like an ignorant ass. But all my money is in the bank. Homeless people don' take debit. ( DAMNIT. LOL)

Why do I have the minister parents?


Why do I have to be treated weird?


Why am I so weird? ( All right I know that answer. LOL)


Why do I have to see things so differently and ask so many questions that it seems like no one has answers to? ( I think I'm trying to get people to think and analyze why we do certain things.)


I miss IMminh my blog family. I'm going to write bobby an e-mail from scratch. But it'll have to wait because everyone knows my e-mails from scratch are insane; I'm not feeling it today.

I OFFICIALLY HATE PEOPLE!!!!

I don't like when adults try to take authorative roles in my life. I also hate when older people act like they know everything and try to condescend like I'm on this lower level. this is not tolerated AT ALL by me, and I will show these people how much of an ass they really are. All of this is to say I don't like the way the pastor FIXED my clothing on Friday after the concert. He said he was making it BETTER, less liberal looking is what he meant, less flashy and gay is what he meant. If I WANT TO WEAR A TANK OVER MY POLO SO WHAT? I was going to rebel against the church the other day, and do something with some random boy. BUt rebellion is just so BLAH. It almost never affects the one your rebelling against, and always has an adverse affect on you, the rebeller.

But my sex drive is dead now. I want to keep it that way. I'm going to start taking herpes medicine, that kills the drive right? ( maybe midol then.) I don't want to partake in the act; but still converse about it, objectively of course.

I was raised in a family that is open about sex; just closed off about sexuality. My parents believe the ONLY way to have sex is heterosexual vaginal sex. The Joy of sex and the COmplete Guide to Kama Sutra are two of my favorite books. I love the chapter on superior Coition, where they refer to the penis as, "the mango". " Sucking while pressing, is known as sucking the mango". TOO MUCH. It's such a funny, sexy book, everyone should read it, and then go to INdia for a mango tasting.


I personally hate mangoes.

OH WELL.


I do feel better now that I wrote this.

If anyone is ever in Philly take the Orange Line that goes South to 8th and MArket the graffiti down there is AMAZING. Today was my first time taking it.


-Marz

GAY PRIDE?????

In Philadelphia we start the celebrations in April. (They don't end until around October really with OUTFEST.) Many times in church the clueless ordained officials ask questions like, " What are the gays proud of?" "What is the point for Gay Pride?" they usually answer their questions saying something about we are celebrating our sin, but that's not it. Now my answers are, of course, only my personal view and perception.


BUT.....



I believe that Gay Pride is an intiative to take pride in the fact that you're gay. Because there are a numerous amount of people that try to make you feel horrible about yourself for liking the same gender. They say you're sinning, they say you're unnatural, they say so much, and overall, they make you sad. After getting through all the hatred. I know personally I had to decide if I was going to walk around hating myself for being gay, or if I would accept it and move on. I think being proud of being gay came with more acceptance of myself. Then I just reached this place where I was proud of it


Whenever new older gay bloggers meet me, many have made the point to step out and always say, " there's more to being gay than just sex". I thank them telling them I know, but today the question comes: IS THERE MORE TO BEING GAY THAN SEX, AND WHAT IS OUR PRIDE THAT WE'RE CELEBRATING?

Back in the winter I over heard this group of gay men conversing about having to get buff and skinny because, " Pride season is coming". I know of, or have heard about too many gay men who were hell bent on losing twenty pounds for May to July, so they could get some man. Because, as EVERYONE knows gay men, for the most part, are shallow and vain. And I find it surprising that being as ALL of is know about the vanity, and all of US have been discriminated against by someone in the community because t=of their shallow vanity, we continue to keep these high standards that soon even Mr. Kodjoe won't be able to keep. I digress to say that these people are getting skinny, more muscle mass, or whatever so they can be seen attractive to get more men. Now, one could argue that that isn't true. That they just want to look nice on the beach, which could be true but I don't think so.


Speaking of a beach. I don't understand how a bunch of naked men on a beach can celebrate gay pride. How is being naked on a beach celebrating pride? Maybe I just don't see the pictures of the rallies or things. But seeing as states like Arkansas are trying to pass laws that will enable them to take adopted children from gay couples, because they cause, "moral and spiritual degradation" in the children. I believe we need to hit those types of places and not wherever the new hot place is. SHouldn't we be trying to get change during Pride month? NOt just trying to find the best orgasm you can in a three day weekend? (I use expedia and applevacations BITCH, my vacay is a week.)


The reason why this month was chosen for GLBT Pride month, is because the Stonewall incident happened in June in 1969. Stonewall of course was a rebellious stand for gay rights, and over the 37 years since it's turned for, "we want equal rights" to these orgy vacations. IN a time where people are being discriminated, abused, and killed because of their orientations we want to just sit back and look on, as these things happen. But yet we want to cry and say something when something horrible happens. Maybe it's jsut the way of America to sit back and watch havoc reak amongst the land and we do nothing.


I personally know that during black Gay pride week I went to Walnut street to go shopping. The men were just crazy, and I wasn't even deep on Walnut. They were all walking around hitting on every thing that walked past them. Most of them had hotel rooms up or down the street and were ready to have thier midday orgasm before their midnight club one. I got hit on profusely while looking for a nice polo and the man kept alluding to us having sex, or some type of hotel room. This left me thinking about why gay people flock to these events, to find a man or to celebrat their pride. I remember being told by one how much they love Gay Pride weekend. He kept commenting on how wonderful the selection in the clubs would be and how he probably could get two to come home with him. It seemed as if he could only get a threesome on a weekend during pride events. I WONDER WHY?



I often think about what these events must look like to not only the heterosexuals, but to younger gay boys. Although I am of stable mind that I can these events and ask, WHAT ARE THEY CELEBRATING? HOW ARE THEY CELEBRATING IT BY HAVING SEX ON A BEACH? Other young gay men, sadly, are influenced by the older homosexuals and their ways, and for some strange reason, want to be like that when they are grown. It's really sad to me when I see these boys aspiring to be like these men that are JUST SUCH A HOT MESS.

IN closing I would like to ask how is the current celebration celebrating gay pride, and bringing about social change? ( Maybe I just don't see the pictures of the rallies,. I know there was one in Philly during BGP weekend; however, there was also a party that excluded the T from GLBT.)

Are we celebrating our pride or jsut glorifying sex?

IN this (non-)glorification of sex are we truly showing that being gay is more than jsut the sex?

Are we validating stereotypes that degrade our community?

By celebrating pride are we degrading the very essence of what we should be proud of?

Just a few things to think about as everyone flocks to the beach.




(DAmn I hate having my mind and thinking like this sometimes. Because sure, I may be the one planning the first Annual Orlando Orgy in 2008, but even then as I sucked two dicks and took one and gave one, I'd somehow incorporate it in some social protest. Maybe do it in city hall with ahuge banner over saying, " We're gay black men and we don't have HIV." to deter that myth that all gay black men have HIV.)


Pride is more than a rainbow Speedo covering your ass you spent five months carving with hamstring curls.

Or maybe it's not right?

That is the tone that's being set?

The subliminal message being sent?



But then again maybe I just haven't seen the pictures from the rallies.

Because fighting for social change isn't worth recording.

Sop what is Gay pride?

How do you celebrate it?

Did I offend you today? ( I hope I did. It'll lead to introspection, or a scoff at my naivete. Either or.)




-Marz

Hopelessly tired

I only got four hours of sleep.


I just worked nine hours after only getting my four hours.


I feel like I'm going to die if I don't get sleep.

I need another one of those 500 mg tylenols.

I shall return tomorrow.

-Marz

Insinuations: A Friday Concert

Today’s rant on Gay Pride Month will be pushed back for the event that took place.



This morning I didn’t hear the music that plays from my cd alarm clock because I heard my fan praising me with cool air that my parents aren’t interested in conditioning. I got up and made myself go into the basement and exercise for an hour. Right now I’m trying to get some upper body muscle mass, because I’m jsut so scrawny. My father is inspired by me. ( but let me get to the point.)
I went to work and left and prepared to go to the concert that I promised the pastor’s wife I would go to. I got home and my mother and sister weren’t ready. AS they dressed one of my mother’s friends pulled up to the house. This is the friend who gave me the nickname Mars, unknowingly to her, that I liked and changed to Marz (Because it has more PUNCH.) I knew something would happen at church and I dind’t want her to be there because she’d say something. But she didn’t want to come because she wanted WORD and we were going to see their family sing. Once my mother got dressed, we all got into the car and rove to the church. It took a while for my mother to find a palce to park, because she wouldn’t listen. But my sister and I left the car way before she finally got parked. I walked into the church, that I had been in once before. (It wasn’t our regular church.) And the usher tried to seat me. I told her that I was waiting for my mother. The audience began to look at my outfit, some admiring, some judging. I went back out to get my mother, telling her she walks slower than my cripple grandmother who utilizes a walker. I also jabbed that she couldn’t walk like that when we’re in New York. (I hope she doesn’t.)
When we all went into the church, the usher went to seat us. Sh took us to another usher that went to seat us. I walked past all the people, and the girls kept staring at me. Then the group behind me whispered something like, " Is he gay?" " He can’t be he’s in church." Or something like that. I sat down and my mother passed me a note, she does this sometimes in church. I wrote her back answering her question and telling her, " I will not allow your insanity in this venue." The man at the front of the church was walking around saying random things, and the audience was just so amped about every word he uttered. "God said I will have," and the crowd jumped up and down. They kept yelling and screaming over simple things that didn’t make sense and I was just confused. I saw this man that I saw the last time I was at the church. He is gay. But then I began to think about one of my questions:
IS there a such ting as gaydar, or are homosexuals just self imposing the stereotypes placed upon us?


Even if I was, he is. He was wearing a burnt orange shirt that didn’t have the top three buttons buttoned, and some cargo pants, that just fit so that his booty could hang out. He was wearing sandals and he had these dreds with a nice shape up. I continued to listen to the man but I wasn’t getting it. I went to write but the pen wouldn’t work. The people sung a song, and the minister who was talking wanted the gay man to come sing with the others. (The pastor’s family.) He came up and sung and was the best male singer up there, and I could see he was probably the good church queen that did as he was told. (IT WILL NOT BE ME.) After that the two teens on the drums and piano began doing the shouting music. The piano, " boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom," each time going up a key, and the drums, " Boon cha boon cha". I was amazed at how these people say they can praise the LAWD without music, but theyv have to wit for the shouting msuic to shout. The man who kept staring at me went and starting shouting and jumping up and down. I sat amused slightly, wondering if he was staring because he was going tot alk to me after service. Tell me how he got delivered and I need to stop having sex. ( You know because I jsut have so much sex.) ( Sarcasm for those who can’t detect it.) He contiued to jump, and the other people hollered. MY PEN BEGAN TO WORK. So I wrote. The girl that sat in front of me kept staring at me, she was staring at me literally for a minute, and I didn’t pay her any mind and then I finally looked at her and we glanced eyes and she turned around. ( I’m cuter now or something, and now people keep staring at me. I always think I have a sign on my head or something.) The shouting ceased, and everyone sat down. The man looked at me again ( Alright so people aren’t thinking he’s like 34, he is probably 21...maybe.) This time I stared him down and we had visual sex, he climaxed first. OOOH I"M GOOD WITH THE RETINA. I KNOW HOW TO WORK MY PUPILS. So then I thought either one, he was going to say something to me about he was saved, or two he was into me.


Then offering time came, the man began telling people how blessed they’d be if they’d bless be GAWD. This older lady walked around the church handing one dollar bills to children and other people who didn’t have money so they could be blessed. ( She felt like a good Samaritan.) I got in the very back of the line thinking of how all eyes would be on me as I walked down the aisle and I would probably get all runway with it. ( My walk has changed DRASTICALLY with all the weight off my thighs and legs. It used to be like weird from my thighs burning together but now it’s very runwayish. ALL THE TIME. I need to learn how to walk like a normal person. Maybe it’s my idea of runway and I’m not being runway at all. I don’t know.) While standing in line, this other young man kept staring at me while talking to some girl, and he kept pointing to my outfit. He was wearing a pink shirt, some jeans, and white shelltops. He was giving me something, but I didn’t know what it was. He kept staring at me, and I was looking into the universe for some sacred answer. I did walk down the aisle almost last and almost everyone was staring at me HARD. I didn’t look at anyone. I sat down and then the benediction came. The man in the pink shirt walked over to the man in the bunrt orange shirt and they both stared and conversed with each other than PINKIE left. I went and said hello to my sister’s godfather who I haven’t seen in FOREVER, and we hadn’t talked since when my mother was in the hospital.




The pastor’s wife then came over to me, and was happy that I was obedient and came to the thing. She then began her insinuations of her own mental thoughts of me. But before she could get to deep she said, " OOOHP there’s your mentor. MENTOR, Come talk to the boy." (Her son, the one who exorcized me, the one that gives something to me, in a vibes sense, but I can’t quite put my finer on it. The one who was called gay but resisted the devil and he fleed. GYEA HIM) He walked up and gave me a handshake and said he was happy I was there. He then asked me how thigns are going, translation Are you still sucking dick? (When did I begin?) I HATE WHEN THEY USE THESE STUPID CODES. I HATE THEIR INSINUATIONS OF ME. I HATE THAT I’M BEING STEREOTYPED AS THIS LOW ESTEEMED SELF HATING SEX ADDICT THAT USES SEX FOR LOVE. I hate that they think that is the norm of gay teens, and then they turn into gay men and that’s how gay men are; of course unless they catch AIDS and die first. Now of course there are SO many people like that, that are straight and gay; however, it’s not me, and it’s an inaccurate stereotype in my point. HE then answered his own question, " Chillin". I said yes. He then began to say he liked my outfit and I have to help him out because he just picks things that match, and he wants to be sharp like me. Then his mother swooped from nowhere, " hook It up". He then told me he’d be preaching two weeks from now, and he’d like me to come. How he’ll be available for me to talk to him soon, but he’s busy with his wife or something.

THESE PEOPLE ARE PAINTING THIS PORTRAIT OF A TROUBLED TEEN AND THEY ARE TRYING TO SAY IT’S ME. IT’S NOT.


After talking to him, I gave my mother five minutes to talk to my sister’s godfather. I stood and watched the ORANGE man watch me from this side of the room then the next. Then I left and walked in the cool rain soaked summer night. I came back in and spoke to my sister’s godfather’s wife. She complimented my weight loss saying, " boy you look good, done went and got all slim and trim". The boy-man stared at me more. I stared back. CHURCH BOYS ARE SO DIFFICULT. Because neither party knows if the other one will rat them out to the pastor of whatever. I just need a damn gay shopping friend, who is low on issues and is at my speed and level at my age. (It does exist BOOO the naysayers.) But church boys are also so wild and crazy and so just a blast and a scream. ( I should know. HEHEHEHEHEHE)



My mother finally got ready and I stole the car keys from my sister. I went outside and the pastor’s wife grabbed me and started playing with my tie, straightening it and unstraightening it so she can fix it again. "So what’s happening this Sunday?" I told her I was working, and I actually made sure I’d be working forever on Sundays. She told me" you need to tell those people you need to get to church and get with Jesus,.....because you know......you know." She began to lean in and twinle her eyes as if she wanted me to feel in a blank. She said you know like five more times and then walked away. You know translation YOU KNOW YOU OUT THERE BEING ALL GAY WITH YOUR RAINBOW AND SLUTTY WAYS. JESUS IS THE ONLY MAN FOR YOU. WE NEED TO KEEP YOU IN CHURCH SO WE CAN CONSTANTLY GIVE YOU STRAIGHT TOUCH UPS WHEN THAT EXORCISM PERM GETS A LITTLE NAPPY YOU HEAR ME?



I just feel soooooo AHHHHHHH. I know what I was raised in, and it’s hard for me to just up and leave the church. But it’s not good for me. It’s hard for me to not read my bible because it just disgusts me, but I know that I don’t believe the words with the same fervor. I’m mad because these people just keep prodding and poking and prodding and poking, AND I’M BOUT TO GET REAL GHETTO. But I can’t even do that because of my parents. AHHHHHHHHH. I’ll be all right. I cam home and took a picture I’m naming anguish. I LOVE IT.







-Marz

GAY??????2

(OOOH his booty looks delicious.)


UMMMM I'm mad at some of my comments. Not angry mad but like frustrated mad. If I wanted to swicth down the street in bad drag and lime green stilletos I shouldn't receive flack, but I understand what everyone is saying. Don't give people anything to specualte about. GYEA.


Yesterday, my mother made me go to bible study. AS I entered into the church I began to feel....I don't know...distant form the whole church experience thing. I'm over it. I sat down and began writing for my book, that I'm not going to delete this time. (LS)

The pastor went on and on and ranted about the rapture and Jesus coming back. Then he started talking about after the seven years of tribulation the war between God and the devil, and then people will live in paradise on Earth for 1,000 years but then sin will be set free again and the true sinners will go to hell. After the studying the pastor's wife was so happy to see me. SHe asked me about the summer but her glance was like she expected me to say, " Oh well I plan on sucking five dicks a day you know how it is." I told her I'm going to be going to my college classes, volunteering at the sexual education group I talked about a while back-COLOURS not the other one, and that I'd be working. She wanted to know more about my volunteering I told her I would be involved with sexual education and HIV prevention. She scrunched her face, and shrugged saying, " I guess". ( I guess I'm not doing a good job making her believe I'm not a whore.)


After my family left the church and said good bye to all the church members we crossed the street. The sidewalk was littered with ghetto black people dressed in just enough clothing to not be naked. The men were standing in front of the Chinese-American food store staring at the women passing, whom all seemed to have a stoller and five kids. This one ghetto woman standing outside the liquor store screaming, " I don't suck dick like you. I don't even like sucking dick". my mother said, " Oh my lawd, let's get into the car and go home". the woman then started screaming gay slurs, calling whoever a faggot, laughing at the fact that this person has HIV. " I ain't got HIV like you, you faggot ass motherfucker."

What does one get from saying that?

How evil do you have to be to make a statement like that?

How morally bankrupt do you have to be to make fun of someone because they have HIV?


She then continued calling him a faggot and saying at least she has a house. It was just really disturbing to me to see something like that. See someone degrade someone for having a deadly disease. Try to degrade someone for their sexual orientation and it made me think once again.


What is derogatory about liking the same sex?


But he had muscles. HE was wearing a white wifebeater, and red gym shorts I saw as my mother rolled past him in the liqour store.

He couldn't be gay right?


THEY don't dress like that?


RIGHT?

(And I thought I wouldn't have anything to say today.)


-Marz

GAY??????

If a man switches 12th street does that make him gay?



If a man strolls down 12th street does that make him gay?



Can the way someone walks determine if one is gay?



If one strolls down the streets of North Philly does that make him gay?



If one switches down the streets of North Philly does that make him gay?



What makes one gay? And Appear gay??

The other day after receiving my check I began to walk to the bank. I had to cross a very busy intersection. During one point in crossing the intersection I began to walk on the concrete edge of a divider because I didn’t want to walk in the dirt. I thought of childhood days pretending to be a trapeze artist, but I didn’t need to hold my arms out. I began walking and this car besides me pulled up going the direction opposite of me. The man on the passenger’s side said rather loudly, " Yo baw gay as shit". (Funny because I didn’t know shit was gay.) Then the driver said, " yeah, but he’s flyy. Yo YOUNGBAW", He screamed at me, " YOU FLYY". I continued to walk and didn’t pay them any mind. They were amazed at how I could walk on that concrete edge and not fall.



Why does the orientation of one interest others so much?


Why do openly gay people prod so hard to make sure that no one claims, "No homo," when they were that way a while back?
What is wrong with one being ignorant to their likes?



IS it anyone’s responsibility to make sure everyone is out the closet?



Why do people believe it is their responsibility?



Who’s business is it? That person, or the rest of the world?



At my job there is a man that is dedicated to going to the gym. He stays dressed nice, and he’s well groomed. He has a high voice and walks like a model. He worships Beyonce, and is in his thirties and single. However, he is a minister and HATES gay people. He works with youth and some of the boys that he mentors, that visit my job, always have the same aura to them. They are always well dressed, and well-spoken, young versions of this man with a little work. According to my dar, all of them are lying but....



Is there a such thing as gaydar?


Are the kids just self imposing stereotypes placed upon them?


Are we cultivating the stereotypes that offend and are trying to be broken down by many?


The other day I walked into my counselor’s office. It was her last day and I was going to miss her. She was one of the first people I told I liked boys. She is the person who gets all my insanity fresh before I filter it for my blog. I took out a pink Gameboy from my bookbag. She asked me why I ad one and I gave her a look and told her shortly, " Long Story". She nodded and went back to her paperwork, and I thought about the WAR I had to endure to get my sister’s gameboy taken from her. I sat down and three girls in the corner began to whisper. However, since they weren’t whispering quite low enough and were two feet from me I hear them. They kept saying, " Did he say he had a pink gameboy because he’s gay?" " he’s Gay". Then one girl began to say, " HEYYYY!!!", and " DIVA" A lot and started ripping up paper and throwing it on the floor singing, "It’s raining paper, hallelujah, it’s raining paper." I looked at the musty looking skanks noticing their nappy weaves and ugly faces and was about to begin a confrontation telling them if they have something to say speak loud enough for everyone to hear, don’t hide in a corner like a little girl, be a woman. But I digressed. There was no need to acknowledge their ignorance.


Is that the stereotype of gay men?



Haven’t we come from that?



Why is being gay seen as being derogatory?



What makes it derogatory?



Who even knows the lyrics to "it’s raining men"? ( I sure the hell don’t.)



Why am I, as a male, limited to all the gameboys except a pink one?



How does having a pink Gameboy coincide with being gay?


IS there any correlation between the two?


Why do people call people gay as a way to degrade them? ( Surely everyone can’t believe it’s a deformation of a male’s character like my mother.)


The other day as I left the train station to transfer to the bus I read a book on the corner. I then began to finish a bracelet I began. The bus pulled up and I saw two boyus near me. One was laughing and whispering loudly to the other boy. " Yo that boy is gay." " Yo he’s gay, I’m telling you." The other boy tried to hush him and tell him I wasn’t. Then this loud woman standing between the three of us said, " eventually you’re talking to loud, and that’s why he’s not saying anything." I had m,y earphones rather high so I couldn’t hear everything. But the boy kept saying, " yo look at him". I got on the bus and three other boys joined the two. They sat on the back of the bus saying how If they, "got off the bus with that fagot we’re going to kick his ass." One got really animated, " Yo man, I’d be like BAM, and then BOOM."


What is being gay?


Can this be determined by how one is dressed?


IS the world that stereotypical?


Am I cultivating stereotypes?
Are people just oblivious to the counter stereotypes?



According to the thoughts, beliefs, and notions of others I couldn’t exactly be considered GAY. the Heterosexuals find gay people interesting and talk to them as if they are a talking lion asking, "What does and antelope taste like?" However, I have no experiences to tell of, so no one would take me serious. They would say I didn’t try a girl so I wouldn’t know if I liked boys. (But the straight boys haven’t tried me but they seem to know they like girls. Funny the double standards that stand alone.)



The other day as I left work I walked over to the bus station. The bus had not pulled off, and I went to the inside waiting station because it was nippy, and my legs hurt from standing for eight hours. One of the men inside left and mumbled faggot something when passing me. He stood on the outside of the sitting station and I started reading my book. I looked up occasionally to see the bus. I didn’t know when it was pulling off but I knew it would be sooner than later if the sign had changed. I noticed that after looking for the fifth time, the man put both his middle fingers to his temples and stared bobbing his head as if he were listening to music while staring at me. I curved my neck so he would know that I’m not looking at him.



Why do straight males swear someone likes them?


Why don’t they understand that there are heterophobic people in the world?

Why don’t people see I’m slowly becoming one of those people?


Why would one leave comfort to be cold and standing because they wouldn’t want to share a common area with someone who MAY be a homosexual? (Because he didn’t know; although his assumption was right.)


If he had asked would it have made a difference?


Would his actions have warranted the same response then?

Why is there always some sort of attack sent because one likes the same sex?

What about liking the same sex signifies weakness?



Why should someone who is gay be beat down for liking boys?



Are any gay people ever asked if they are gay before they are bashed? ( Not saying it makes a difference)


But are bashings based upon stereotypes?


What about liking the same sex awakens this internal hatred from others?


Are the stereotypes true?



ONE night after work I stood outside, past midnight, waiting for the trolley to come. My stomach hurt I I was leaning against a newspaper dispenser. This older man in a car pulled up. I won’t go into details his words, because I don’t really know all he said seeing the volume of my earbuds. (They aren’t that loud. LOL) Basically he called me sexy and offered me a ride to wherever I had to go. He told me he would take me there. I was slightly tempted to go, because my stomach hurt so wretchedly, but my paranoia and the fact that he was going to try and kill me kept me from looking at the old fool in his Cadillac with his shirt collar popped like the seventies. ( Although that retro look is hot on some days.)



Why is the community screwed up themselves?


How can we fight these stereotypes and bashings if we can’t get our minds right?


I wondered why that man had to search for a companion past midnight. HAD it been daylight would he have added the words to his thoughts?



It seems, lately, that every day I’m gaybashed almost physically and always verbally, and hit on by some old strange man, or young strange man. (They’re all strange. LEAVE ME ALONE! I nneed my space. If I wanted a BF I’d have one-they aren’t hard to get.)



When has someone’s orientation become their defining characteristic?



When did it matter to anyone?



Who’s business is it?



Who’s gay?


What’s gay?


He’s gay?
He can’t be, he strolls down 12th street; he doesn’t switch.



Maybe if I wore clothes that fit (a 3x instead of a small shirt) maybe if I wore jeans that fit( a 40 32 instead of a 33x32-I love the way they fit.) Maybe if I stopped reading books and look illiterate and talked as such. Maybe if I picked up a drug addiction, dropped out of school, and aspired to be a rapper than I would defy the stereotypes placed upon me, or assimilate to ones that are already there for me. Maybe then my orientation wouldn’t be questioned and defined in the same thought. Maybe then I wouldn’t be treated different. Maybe people would sit next to me on buses. Maybe other males wouldn’t talk to me, or maybe they would in a friendly sense. Maybe I’d be the picture of a black male living in the ghetto. Maybe I’d be treated like a human with feelings, and not some perverted devil worshiper Maybe I’d add to the hysteria of DL men, and scare more black women to make there parents, "Guess who’s coming to dinner?" (Although I don’t care which race one chooses for their mate. But I think it’s appropriate here.)


Cuz gay men aren’t like that right???


(Just a few questions I’ve been pondering.) ( Gyea that is my mind for ya.)



I’m hoping I can say the word so many times it doesn’t make sense to me anymore. However it all ready had that effect with me.


-Marz

Last Day Of School 2006

Today is the official last day of school. Although mentally I checked out a while ago, and physically I’ve been checking out physically for the last two weeks. My report card is what I’ve earned in some settings. My rank has dropped to a horrible 3.6. it was terrible at a 3.7 but not it's abyssmal. I am angry about that, and my rank is 67th out of 166. I wanted to shoot some of the people aheda of me, but I maintained myself. I'm mad because most of the poeple ahead of me took the simplest classes they could i.e. astronomy, and while I suffered through two AP's, and two honors. (That I didn't even sign up all for.) They get ahead for doing less work. In my honors English class we read about twenty books the whole year, and had these crazy subjective tests that asked crazy questions that no one could get, and had to write an essay. The other English classes only read three books, if that. Their final was a test on Othello. Our test was a 80 question test and we had to write an essay on the spot in 84 minutes. BOO THE UNDERACHEIVERS THAT GET AHEAD OF ME. ( Maybe I should go get rid of some people.) but it'll be better once all my grades come together.)


Schools aren’t made to teach children anymore. With the in statement of our new NO CHILD LEFT BEHIND LAWS education has become an competition not only with other students but with the world, because we are try get our names back up there. Every two months ( I believe) they give out these tests called benchmarks, and the students are tested on material that the teacher should’ve taught up to that point. It is merely impossible to teach all the required information, and if all the information is covered the students don’t learn it.

These tests are multiple choice of course, and the teachers stress us out every two months like we’re taking the SAT. Because these scores determine how much federal funding we get, these scores show how good or bad the teacher is doing at his or her job. It’s very stressing. Also, because I attend an academic competitive high school the teachers try and teach us all the material that will be on the next benchmark. If we were in a kindergarten class a session may go like this, " Good morning students, today we’ll be learning addition of zeroes, any number added to zero stays the same. All right students now we’ll be doing addition with the number 1, any number plus one is that number plus one". Then they’ll write that on the board and expect a test tomorrow. Now of course this seems all right to someone my age because we understand that, but these kindergartners don’t even know what adding is.


For instance, in my Honors Trigonometry class the teacher would do a section a day, and NO ONE would get the material. The teacher couldn’t stop because he had to stay on track for the next benchmark because he can’t look bad, so he continues when all the new material is based upon us knowing the original material. Some of the teachers say that we’re learning like we’re in college, but I’m in college and the classes aren’t the same way.


Also because teachers basically teach so that their students can remember the material for two months until the next benchmark, at the end of the year the students don’t remember much of the intial subject. At the end of this year when we were studying for our final no one could recall subjects we learned about in February.

Everything is a competition now, everything is to keep a job, to see how much funding we can receive. Every year our school had to improve with our test scores or we don’t get as much money or recognition from companies. This is hard to do seeing as our scores are already high. IF our scores are in the 98% last year, they have to be 98.!%, although the district and other people would love a 99%. My school has received full computer sets because of our academic achievements, and we also receive enough books that we can have class sets and home sets. (Although almost all my classes didn’t have class sets and the district’s plot with chiropractors across the nation has worked into probably giving me scoliosis. GOD FORBID.)


Another thing I don’t like about this law is the hidden clauses that nobody knows about. One of them came to the light mid-year when my junior class had to sign exemption forms, because in the NO CHILD LEFT BEHIND ACT all students who go to public school get their information reported right to the military. This only was known because one mother whose son died in Iraq was hunted down like a black man who looked at a white woman in Alabama in 1933.



During the time when I was attending Saturday school to get some of the credits out of the way I got to see how the other children learn. I left my ghetto brainiac school to go to a ghetto dumb school. At my school we always look down on the children kids who attend neighborhood schools, and the education they receive but I felt so bad for the children. If you read my blog about some of the things that happened there it was just terrible. Some of the girls were prostitutes and were happy about it, I remember I spent one full period listening to one girl trying to persuade another girl into the profession, "Gurl you can set your own prices, and you getting paid to have sex." Some of the c smoked marijuana before going into class stating that is what they needed to make it through the three hours. The children in my class were so loud and illiterate and just ghetto. The type of kids that lack home training. Now there were a few that I felt high respect for because some were African immigrants trying to get their diplomas, and some were dop out adults who were getting their life together. But those other children were so horrible.



Because the class, for most of them, was a make up, the class was asked why they failed. One boy said, " I failed this class originally because my teacher told the class he was gay and then showed us a picture of his boyfriend. I couldn’t respect him after that". I WAS ABOUT TO SCREAM THAT DAY THANK GOD I HAD A BOOK TO KEEP ME SANE. Then the class got into a discussion over how gay teachers shouldn’t tell about their love life, and he should keep that to himself. Another class discussion the teacher asked every student what they didn’t like about their school. Some of the kids said things that I could understand like the violence, but then some of them started saying how the teachers don’t teach anything and they don’t learn but then when asked if they talk and things of that nature they said they did. I left the two classes with no knowledge on World History, and a higher grade in algebra 2; but I kept thinking about the children who attended that school for a real education. I thought about how they basically know nothing.

SCHOOL VIOLENCE


School violence is out of control. I personally can’t stand in the monring have to wait in line for the metal detector. ( COULD WE GET MORE THAN ONE?) Although ym school gets kind of lax sometimes, all right very lax, until something happens. Like last year when all the pyromaniacs went on a spree and set the school on fire about twelve times in one day.( I was so mad that trick didn’t burn to the ground.) One boy smuggled a BB gun inside the school, and it’s just very easy to smuggle things into my school because of our lax security. But when it gets high because someone brought something in the day before, then it takes FOREVER. Depending on the intensity of the machine it could be a pen that goes off, it’s just too much. But I’ve made friends with all the people that would pull a Columbine, and they promised me they wouldn’t shoot me and they’d tell me the day before.


This year we had too many occurrences with other schools becoming our rivals and trying to kill students from our school. For the last month we got out early and didn’t wear uniform to deter these fights on the trains. There aren’t many fights at my school but when we do have them they are a mess. The last one girls were outside bricking each other in the face. Their was a war between the classes, although the class of 2007 is too grandeur and excellent to participate in such nonsense. WE WILL BE THE DEPARTURE OF EXCELLENCE. The level of violence in schools is insane.



YOU KNOW WHAT I BLAME IT ON?



SEX & DRUGS & PEER PRESSURE


If the children weren’t having sex they wouldn’t be always trying to get some more orgasms. If the children weren’t smoking that DAMNED REEFER ( REEFER LOL so eighties.) If we would buy some chastity belts for these children then everything would be all right. I FOR A FACT, know that the better majority of the top of my class doesn’t have sex. Parents need to threaten their children, " if you use it for more than the excretion of non-nutritious substances from your body, I will cut it off or sew it up". (You see why I can’t have children.)


But seriously, those children are just so damn horny. WHO IS PUTTING VIAGRA IN THE DRINKING FOUNTAIN? Always looking for somewhere to store their penis for that good two minutes, or maybe less than one. I mean, of course I get in my places where I just start rubbing on a table to feel the friction on my hands and sucking my tongue. (Don’t ask.) But all these children are trying to get a boyfriend, girlfriend, slut friend that they can get off with. THAT’S WHY YOU WHORES HAVE GONORRHEA, RIGHT ON YOUR TONGUES. We all know what my results were when the test came back. NEGATIVO. ( Shut up bitch you don’t even get none at all with your cellulite ass. Wanted to front on that boy yesterday it’s gon be another five years before you can get you a hunk like that.)

or we could be productive with the sex, for every A on a child’s report card that child can have sex that many times until the next report card. SOMETHING. THESE CHILDREN ARE JUST SO DAMN RUDE. THEY LACK HOME TRAINING, COMMON SENSE, REASONING SKILLS, A BRAIN, A MIND, SOME LACK SPIRITS. It’s just not good at all.


Also the fact that all the children are trying to be like each other but then not. All the kids say, " I’m not trying to be like anyone else, I’m being me," but being who they are seems to be very similar to who their best friend is. The girls dress alike in the cliques, the boys act alike in their cliques. IT JUST PERVERSES MY SOUL TO NEW DEPTHS OF INSANITY. Maybe that’s why I don’t have a clique or posse. (HMM PONDER.)The peer pressure is just so BLAH. I"M OVER IT. I don’t falter to it. I’M MARZ AND THESE HOES CAN NEVER CLAIM ME. I set the trends the others follow me, and I want them off my trail. Everyone wants to dress alike, everyone wants to shop at the same stores. GIVE ME A THRIFT STORE AND OLD NAVY. Everyone wants to listen to Crunk&B, Get their Three 6Mafia on. GIVE ME SOME BILLIE HOLIDAY.

I’m the one who arranged to leave school midday senior year to go to Community College to finish their first year requirements. The other kids are following me. Now I’m not that big of a trendsetter (Don't want to seem like I'm bragging and arranged the million man march or something.) but watching some of these children devour their own essence to try and collect someone elses to shine like they do is just disgusting to me. IN EVERY CLIQUE THERE IS ONE THAT DOESN’T FIT IN. (It’s just the truth.) There are probably more than one at any given time, but there’s ALWAYS one that doesn’t fit in. ANd the others that do fit in are only real ly important to the others in the clique, and are usually carbon copies and have no personability to themselves.

BE YOU. I've been offered drugs. I've been offered alcohol. I've been offered sex for free and money. You decide who you want to be, and think about that hard before you make decisions. ( Who am I even lecturing to? LOL)

IF there are any other high school kids, or anyone who is constantly trying to fit in, dont do it. It isn't cute. STAND OUT. It's hard at first, believe me I know, but eventually it all comes together. Recently a lot of people have been calling me unique and saying that I'm " Uniquely You," it has done my heart SO PROUD. I hope I don't acclimitize to the ways of others EVER.


I cannot believe it. It was offical on Move-up DAy. It was official last Friday when the seniors graduated, but I AM OFFICIALLY A SENIOR GRADUATING IN THE CLASS OF 2007. THE CLASS OF EXCELLENCE. (There is a post coming form that.) I just still can't believe I have one year left until i ccan leave this abyss. YAYYY FOR LEAVING THE ABYSS.

-Marz

WHERE'S MY KNIFE?

I need to get me a weapon. I need protection from the gay men in this city that are constantly coming at me with nonsense. This is going to be a heavy week in my writing subjects so be prepared, for those who read.

These gay men older than 25 keep coming at me with mess and expect me to just lie on my back or strap a condom on as they lie on theirs.( Is it lay DAMNIT grammar rules.)


They either come to me telling me I’m cute, because they think I have this low self esteem and expect me to be like, “OH WOW you think I’m cute”. After a few seconds they’ll up it up to “hot”, or “really cute”. Some of them come to me with that corny, “ what are you…like twelve?” IF I WAS TWELVE WHY THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING TO ME AT ALL? AND STARING AT MY ASS/ Then they try to condescend like I’m on this lower level. YOU CAN CONDESCEND ALL YOU WANT TO BUT WHATEVER LEVEL YOU’RE GOING TO I’M NOT THERE. Then there are the ones that want to whisper in dark corners with their homothugishness. LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!!!!




After something that happened on Saturday night, early Sunday morning I started thinking about carrying a knife, because some people need to get the point real quick. School is about to end so I won’t have to go through metal detectors all damn day. And I won’t just be slashing folk. However, I don’t want to be some knife wielding individual walking down the street.



HOWEVER.



Today school let out early. I didn’t know we were getting out early so I was surprised. I left an hour after the time I usually leave, but it’s the day before the last day of school. I was going to go with some of my friends/school associate’s to South Street and look at clothes. But the girl said her plans weren’t concrete and she cursed her boyfriend out and went home. So I had three hours to spend downtown. I wanted to look at clothes and read my summer reading book, The Kite Runner-which is really good by the way. I went to Tower as I used to do before I injected all this business into my life and began listening to Floetry sing. This older man walked pass me and me staring around I glanced at him. He walked pass and continued then this high school boy came walking up the aisle. He had to be 16 or 17, and he was about 6’3 or 6’4. He was kind of thick and probably wore a 38 waist, so he was a big guy, sort of. He was cute. SO he stared at me and I turned back to the listening station. ( because I don’t like the feeling of me standing away from whatever can occur.) He then came over to the section I was standing at and began looking at the music. I moved over, and eyed him thinking if he was waiting for the headphones he would have to wait, because I had to hear Floetry sing four more songs. ( you can’t listen to track 6 without 7,8, and 9 on Flo’Ology. And the last track is JUST FIRE, so you have to hear that one.) I moved to the far right of the cd shelf near this wall pillar and picked up one of the books, and the boy just kept looking me over. Then he handed me my glasses case and I took it. I continued to flip through the book, then he reached for a cd that was near my penis. He picked up the cd, and I moved back almost getting molested by this boy. (But at the time I just thought I was standing in his way of the cd he wanted to get.)



I moved over to the left side of the cd shelf, and he started staring at me ass. Then, although the music was blaring, he asked me my name. (Although Kiki said I should start giving out a fake name, he got my real name.) I then started thinking, “ Well I’m about to go shopping and need someone to shop with. He obviously is gay we could go shopping.”.(Because at that time I didn’t want to stab him, because he was just some boy outside of my personal space waiting for the headphones, in my mind.) He then asked grabbed my sunglasses that rested in my hand and lifted them to see the front. WHOA RED FLAG WHY ARE YOU TOUCHING MY STUFF.

He then asked me if I had a boyfriend, I told him no. He then asked me if I wanted a boyfriend. (IS THAT HOW PEOPLE GO ABOUT THAT NOWADAYS? I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOU'RE LAST NAME NOR YOUR CRIMINAL RECORD.) I told him no. He then stretched his left arm out to rub my penis, and tapped it a little bit.


I WAS ALL TOO THROUGH. I WAS JUST DONE. FLOORED. I was going to punch him in the face. But then I thought about where I was, and how it would look a hot mess with the gay negroes in the back of the store fighting. I put the headphones down, short of my last track, and went to the other side and he stood there smiling like," He'll be back.). He then followed and I was about to get crazy and loud. But he walked pass me and over to this other sound station farther down. There were no good people on this sound station, but I took my chances with Christina Millian. I don’t like her, but she has this HOT breakup song, “Y’all aint’ nuthin”. I LOVE GREAT BREAKUP SONGS. They are just so angry and bitter, and have so much OOOMPH. The other boy then started talking to this other boy wearing this hot Dolce&Gabbana outfit and then the D&G boy walked away.


The other boy kept staring at me, and I wasn’t going to stop listening to Christina give me her daily diary of what she did for this man that screwed her over. SO I stood my ground long enough. I left and thought about which kitchen knife I would put in my book bag starting Wednesday. But after talking to Kiki I’ve decided I’m just going to get some pepper spray, and maybe a rape horn. (SOMETHING.)




BECAUSE I CAN’T STAND THESE HORNY PERVERTED GAY BOYS.




AND THE PERVERTED CHILD MOLESTING WHORES WHO ARE OVER 20 AND SO WEAK THE ONLY CHANCE THEY HAVE IS WITH SOME YOUNG, DUMB, AND FULL OF CUM BOY. (YES I SAID IT.)


I may be young, and full of cum, but I am FAR from dumb, and SOOO much more than a pretty face and some pear shaped hips and a dick. These males are lucky Kiki talked to me, because I’d sure enough be in prison on attempted murder. I know for certain that if you try to cut off one's penis that he'll die from all the arteries that are connected.


(I hate when people have to see my angry black woman come out and start screaming. MARZINA CALM DOWN GURL DAMN. LOL)



-Marz

FATHER"S DAY 2006

Today is father’s day, and I think this is the first one where I can celebrate sincerely. After all the years of dreading this day, it finally isn’t horrible for me. Growing up I used to hate having to write, “ I love you,” in those cards, because if I said it, it wouldn’t matter. But I felt that words were eternal and they would never disintegrate on the card. I used to hate writing it because I hated my father and I was lying eternally by writing this lie on the card. Today as I cleaned m y room and I thought about the gift I bought my father I thought about how much growth I’ve experienced in coming from hating my father, that period when I was planning his murder, ( NOT a happy mental place for me then.) to now happy that I bought him something and hopeful for the satisfaction the gift would bring him.




I gave him the Old Navy gift card, and Andre Crouch cd, and he made me mad. I wrote about him being an ungrateful whore once before. I didn’t even know he liked Andre Crouch until he had this conversation with another church member about his profuse love of Andre Crouch’s music. I wasn’t fazed when he asked for the receipt because if he doesn’t like the cd he would want to take it back. I also began to think about the money on the gift card and how he’d probably find some type of way to do something insane with it and not spend the money on himself. The day when I was going to my junior prom and he was driving me around he took me to get my check, and he wouldn’t go into the store. My mother said I should take pity on him because he gets depressed when he thinks he doesn’t have enough money to buy something, and since he doesn’t know the cost of the clothes, and he wants to look nice, he gets depressed. ( Because he hovered around the store.)( I personally think that’s insane.) I hope he comes in and buys something he can wear, and not just underwear, because it makes no sense to buy that many pairs and he would do something like that.)




Although I have my father, every year there are the kids who get really bitter around this time of year. In previous years I always said that no one cared for this holiday. Because children with fathers wish they didn’t have them, and children without fathers didn’t have one, some wish they didn’t have them anyway, and the others did want them. The ones that did want a father always chastised the children with fathers to value them and BLAH. THEY HAVE NO CLUE. He did get on my nerves today. (It almost always happens whenever he opens his mouth.) I don’t know.



This year is different, previous years I told children they aren’t missing out on anything by not having a father present. But seeing as I had an abuser instead of a father for a good while, I guess I’m sort of in the same boat. ( Although some wouldn’t identify it that way.) However, I’ve been trying to talk to my father, and, moreover, stand up for myself; because my father will accuse you of stealing his car and it’ll be in front of the house, and then you have to argue when he sees his car right in front of the house.





I think we’re getting better. I hope we are.




I’m happy for the growth I see in myself, by being able to wish my father a sincere happy father’s day.




-Marz

OH how the mind wanders

LAst night I was talking to my mother about India. Arie and her music. Why did my mother say, " You know...I like her. She isn't like these other artist where she has to sing about her vagina or try and make up other words for it." (because my mother thinks all ungospel female artist sing about their vaginas.) I was like, " umm... gyea...she doens't so that."


I don't realy have anything to write about. I have been slipping on my self revelations, how am I supposed to gain closure if I won't write them? (I'll get to them.)


So this is the official last week of school, and the seniors are graduating. I want to go but I have to go to my first ob pick up my check then go to my second job and work six hours. I've been cutting school all week, and it's quite interesting. I tell my mother so she knows. She doesn't really have a problem with it. But some of these kids are insane leaving after first period, 9:00. I at least stay until 1:00. (Like that's any better.) I have a post coming probably on the last day of school about education today because no one seems to know exactly how schools are now, but let's jusy say it parallels Bush's affect on Iraq.

WHY DID HE MAKE THAT BIG DEAL OVER THE ENDANGERED SPECIES IN HAWAII?

NOw I'm not saying just pollute those waters, but it seems so supsicious that the president would come from governing a failing war to talking about some damn fish. I think he has some nucleur warheads in that coral reef. (It's up to speculation.)

I want to kiss someone. KISSY KISSY KISS. DAMN still having my first kiss. (DAMN HE IS SUCH A SEXY LATINO I WOULD LOVE TO STICK MY TONGUE IN HIS......)(Gyea the sex drive is back on, it's insane.) Remember when I wrote I was going to learn how to lick my lips seductively, that never worked out. But I've been noticing that I bite my lip, and it attracts dudes. I noticed yesterday that i have this flirtatious body language. I HAVE TO STOP THAT. (I swear I just kissed my hand.)

GETTING BACK TO ME

IN my post growing up gaybashed ( I can't link it because I'm on a link.) I wrote about how I was very loud, and crazy. I had an aura that attracted people, but then I almost got shot in North philly and I withdrew into myself. I've been noticing lately that I've been coming back out. I think it's working at my second job because I have to talk to people and greet them and smile and things. It was actually surprising because I was hired the same day as two other employees and they moved me to the register first. When I asked why they bsaid because I'm more personable and relatable. They have the other girl in the back in the fitting room. Bubt walking up to people smiling and asking them how they are has helped me when just walking ddown the street. Today I had this small conversation with this India lady that sold me my cherry fruit snacks. ( I'm going back for another pack.) I noticed how I'm becomnig more extroverted. And it's going to be more exciting if I can bring all of my introversion out, because a that time I wasn't who I am now. I wasn't as confident, I didn't have such a stong sense of self, I wasn't the person that I've grown to love, because I jsut LIKED myself back then. I'm intrigued to see what happens. WHO KNOWS??????

HAS ANYONE SEEN THE NEW MEN'S VOGUE? LENNY IS JUST SO DAMN HOT!!!!! I swear I would lower my self respect and let hm get whatever on the second date. I just want to lick the outside of his leather pants as he wears them. I KNOW that mans has sme naked picture of him. I WANT IT. I love the way he dresses. I WANT TO BE A FASHION ICON SO BAD. It's hard. I need to step far outside the box. I've been tipping but I want to be so far away from the box, damn the box of matching and coordinating. DAMN YOU I SAY. (LOL)



So I'm adding some other things that I want to do this summer.

I want to work on my upper body. Throw some sunshine and water around and make my blossoms bloom. I WANT MALE CLEAVAGE, AND I SHALL HAVE IT.

I want to explore the recesses of my being and find out more about me. (That's going to be interesting. especially since I don't know what that entails.)

I just want to have fun. I have some REALLY crazy things planned, and I don't think I'll go through wth some of them because I would feel so bad after doing them. But I'll see.

Some of my co-workers at my second job ( soon to my my first job because I'm not contracted after June) have crushes on me. But I'm underage and gay. The guy that has a crush is too old for me. ( BECAUSE I"M NOT LEGAL.) The girl is SO, my back-up hag. Kiki got mad with me when i told her, SHE'S STILL THE FULL TIME HAG. But I don't like the way she's starting to be my sister's friend. The girl is like, " MArcus I love you. But it can never work out." Yesterday they were saying how they both have crushes on me. It's weird having all these people attracted to me. These people say I don't even look like the same person in my Id card when I was bigger. WHO KNOWS.


When is Jill Scott making her next cd?

When is My Chemical romance making their next cd?

WHY IS MY COUSNELOR GOING TO LEAVE ME IN EMOTIONAL DISARRAY?

When is Fall Out boy making their next cd?

Does Kelis really give out fellatio lessons?

Do the Pussycat Dolls allow male members? ( I WANT TO JOIN SO BAD.)

Why does the lad singer eyes turn red when she's dancing? THE WOMAN NEEDS SOM VISINE DAMN.


I NEED TO KNOW THESE THINGS.

-Marz

A higher pinnacle for me

Today is a really good day. I have all of this internal joy. I feel like an India Arie song. The ones that make you smile and reflect on yourself. I CAN'T WAIT FOR HER NEXT CD. IT'S ALMOST HERE. SHE IS GOING TO GET A GRAMMY I CAN FEEL IT.

The other day I'm walking down the hallway and my biology teacher walks up to me, and she invited me to this trip. She is the faculty sponsor of the GLBTSA and they were going to all these gay youth places. I was happy because I could miss school. I'm mad that I looked so desperate coming to her trying to get for this trip and she's going to postpone it to September. WHAT KIND OF POSTPONE DATE IS THAT? THREE MONTHS PLEASE.

I feel like I've slipped here personally in my blog. I feel as though my essence has been tainted, and I just stood and let it be. I've been stressing myself out over so many little things. COLLEGE has become this huge pinnacle that I feel like I can't reach. Because what college represents to me, in how I've been thinking about college since I was 12.

I MISS MY BLOG FAMILY. I want to talk to all of them. I miss my Charlie, I miss my Mario, I miss my BB and Cousin NICKY, I miss EVERYONE. My uncle Gold. (Why haven't I moved Bobby to family yet? HMMM He needs to give me a nickname for him.)AWWW when I'm grown were going to have green tea and oatmeal raisin cookies in Italy. (I want my 21st to be in Italy, shoot some nude pics on a beach and hanging off a tree with a corn snake slung around me.)

Sometimes while living life, I think people seem to forget where they've come from. In the sense that living life brings about challenges that make us stronger or leave us crippled in our life. I REFUSE TO BE CRIPPLED. When these new trials come we just seem to wallow in this new experience, we fail to look back where we've come from. With my recent things I allowed myself to just sit and wallow and I longed to be depressed. I wanted to cry, but looking back on my life why should I be so distressed over new experiences. Sure, we as people have to achieve new skills and tools to cope with life. But, getting through certain experiences like cutting, self hatred, abuse should enable me to look to the future with hope. However, sometimes I'm afraid. I get scared of what may happen, what's to come. But looking back on where I've come from, the place that I've reached, the ridges I've climbed and got scratched on to get to this pinnacle, why should I be scared? I personally know that fear keeps me, and maybe others, from doing certain things, obtaining goals, being the best the could be, or who they are to begin with.

GREENWICH VILLAGE

On July 7th, my mother and I will be visting NYU, and coming to Greenwuich Village. I invited my father and he tried to get off from work but he couldn't do it. But I think he''ll try and rearrange some things like he did for my junior prom. I really don't want either of my parents to come because they ask questions that have no correlation to my education. ( Like when my mother asked one school will I make friends easily.) But I want my father to be involved in the college experience, because I am trying to put him in my life now. Also, when things always get down to the end of things he always feels as though he was left out. Also, I am his son and he should see one of the colleges I'm interested in. But if he can't come it's only a tour so whatever. I can feel the day is going to be very neurotic. I have this image of my mother and I being on the train going home and I'm reading a book giving her a nasty look saying don't even talk to me. And she'll smile and say, "Now boy I told you I was going to ask how many students get stabbed while walking to class everyday. It's not my fault they didn't have a graph ready for me."

My mother has this imposed thought of New York, and Philadelphia is the most crime filled city in America. She never believes me when I tell her that. Also the woman walks so slow, and she wants me to walk right next to her at her slow pace. I hope we have fun. But that one is going to do something. I'm also slightly freaking out because if someone hits on me my mother would freak out. (She might.) Kiki says it's going to happen, and I'm telling her it won't. My couselor says that no one would do that if I was with my mother. They would whisper to me on the side that if I needed a place to stay when I came to New York look them up. (That does sound like something that would happen.) My mother has no idea exactly about Greenwich, and I'm kind of reluctant to see her. I don't know what time I want to leave. I've never been to New York, and I haven't had a vacation or rested in so long. I wanted to catch the last train that leaves, but my mother and I in Greenwich on a Friday night. I CAN'T EVEN IMAGINE THE INSANITY.

I hope it's a good day. I'm prepared to have fun with the woman in the VILL. I can't wait really. My mother and I shopping with my MP3 player filled with India Arie, and Kiki Sheard's new ced. OH YES.


Their is a higher pinnacle for me, but as I climb I need to remember all that I've all ready overcome it comes in handy for future problems.


-Marz

nhdghjkcghkmghjk

I've been feeling really weird lately. The other day my sex drive came on and that was an eye roll. I hope it goes way again, it's more productive that way. I measured myself in the nuses office, maybe she measured me wrong but there's no way I'm magically 5'9. I was 5'10 last year. Whatever. I weigh 175 pounds now, and I"M SO SKINNY. It's freaking me out. i need to eat some food. People think I'm on a diet from the things I eat, because for breakdast I LOVE raisin bran, or poptarts. I can eat gummi bears, green tea, and apple sauce for a meal; although I usually throw some meat in there. I don't know. but I'm really skinny, and it's so new, but my hips are like CRAZY. this school full of hoodlums attcked some kids from m school and some kids almost died. (Some got bashed with bricks.) SO we've been getting out ten minutes early and haven't had to wear a uniform.) It's so hard not having a uniform everyday except Friday, you have to wake up and think about what you're wearing. Usually I only have to do that once a week. But my wardrobe is expanding from me buying things rationally. I'm going to buy ten graphic tees this Friday. I've decided from every check I'll spend some on me and save the rest. I'm having thsi conflict about tithes and offerings right now, and whether paying the church is......right. I'm really intent on picking out this new style. It's really hard. I want something that is just full force hot. I want something that is like rock/preppy/skaterish. DOES THAT EXIST? I love looking preppy, but I'm never standard preppy it's always some funk in it. ( I still can't believe the way this small is fitting me. OMG.)

I've really been feeling Avril Lavigne, Kelly Clarkson, and Fiona Aple lately. I have no boyfriend, or ex, to be angry over but still. i think I just love GREAT breakup songs. I cn't wait for Avrils' new cd, or India's. WHEN IS JILL GONNA MAKE HERS? Taking all this time, it better have more than beyonce's 25 track cd. ( One for each year of life.)

I was going to write about my issues here today, and I don't know if I'll get to them.


I'll be sending out college applications in November, and this time right now is very emotionally stressing on me. I feel like what I've done is inadequate. My horrible 1610, my horrible 3.7, my rank only in the top 25% it just doesn't seem to scream to where I want to go. I had this breakdown because I feel as though I'm choosing college for their level of prestigiousness (if that's a word.) throughout my life this hierarchy of schools has existed and been presented to me and I've accepted it. When I hear someone say they went to somewhere like a Communiy college it's like, " HMMMM". Although there are those that are just in Community for lack of funds. When I hear someone is going to a trade school it's like, " HMMM." When maybe they just want to pick up that trade. The schools I've been saying are Cornell, NYU, PENN state, Temple, maybe Howard, and somehwere else yet to be determined. Around my classmates I'll only say NYU or Cornell aloud because they have really low self esteem about their intelligence and if I say temple they'll start trying to rag on me all period about that's all I can get into and they are going here and there, and I just want to scream SHUTUP, and when I do I get in trouble. (STUPID HEIFER.) I want my college experience to be right for me, and I don't think that I'm going around choosing the right environment correctly. because I'm choosing a school for a name. I keep thinking about if I go here or there and my application is on top of someone else's that went to this lower school I'll get the job.

I'll be visiting NYU on July 7(or 8th the firts Frriday in July) and I'll be able to see how that is. I'm really nervous because my parents are who they are, and they going to be so weird in New York, especially Greenwich Vllage. Kiki keeps saying someone is going to hit on me because i it happens here it definitely is going to happen there. I HOPE IT DOESN"T. My parents would flip out, and my mother is already expectng Al Qaeda to drive a tank through a McDonald's or something.


WE MAJOR


In choosing a major it's always such an eye roll. I want to double major and I want two degrees when I graduate for my bachelor's. I want to major in Spanish and I wanted to major in something else that was less artsy so that if I got tired of jobs that Spanish offered I could go on and do the other thing. My mother has been talking to me about my major and things, because she spent two years in college to become a veterinarian, but when the time came to kill the animals she said she couldn't handle it, and went into accounting. ( A huge jump right. LOL) But she, I guess, regrets spending all that time n vet school and not all of those credits transferred so she was left with whatever. She wants me to be able to go straiht through and not swicth my major a million times. but I switch it constantly. Last week I wanted to be a fashion designer and go into fibers/textiles/weaving major with Spanish. But now I just don't know. I don't even know if I want Spanish.





Then there are the people saying I have so much time. I shouldn't worry about not haing it right now. I wish they would shutup and die. Well maybe not die, but catch a cold or something. IF I WANT THE ANSWERS NOW I'LL SEARCH ALL I WANT TO. IF I SEARCH HARD ENOUGH I CAN FIND THEM EARLIER THAN YOUR OLD ASS DID. I actually told my mother something I do like, my dream. She was receptive after I explained it. She didn't know where it came from.

My mother keeps asking me what I life. ( Did i write that her yet?) I DON"T KNOW. I'm not allowed to live, I'm not allowed to experience. I'm not allowed to be. I'm not. This brings me back to college again because college is going to be a release of whoever the hell I really am. Because there is a difference between who i have to pretend to be, or act like, or who I'm suppressing, and who I really am. I'm quite scared of who will come out. I hope I like him.

BURYING GIFTS AS IF THE'RE BURDENS


That line is from A song Ginny Owens sings. My mother kept trying to throw writing out there as a major. " Why don't you study English?" " Why don't you go for journalism?" I DON'T LIKE WRITING. I DON'T WANT TO PURSUE THIS AS A DAMN CAREER. It's so damn complicated because I didn't call for the damn words,, but when I don't write I feel so AGHHHHHH. But I can't stand it. But After listening to ginny I realized that writing may be, or is, a gift from God,a dn I always look at it like a damn burden. Because I wish I could just leave the words. Not always try and twist sentences in my head, make sentences sound better. I digress to saying that God has given me a gift and I shouldn't be ungrateful for it. This is one of the things that has been hard to come to terms with. BEING A DAMN WRITER. But I still don't want to pursue it as a career. I still wish it were gone, that these damn characters would stop plaguing me to be written. I let my mom read some of he new novel to get the characters to leave me alone. She couldn't find words then say it was amazing. I don't believe her of course because she's my mother, but others say it's WOW.

I keep thinking what if this writing thing is my calling. ME A WRITER. WHY?

I would hate to cross the line of writing for passion and art to that place where each word is for a cost. There is a certain gay black author that turned me off with how he uses his writing, and it isn't even that good to me. I don't see what others see in his work, because it really is average to me. I DON'T WANT TO BE A DAMN WRITER AHHHHHHHHHHH. Can one reject ones calling? Why am I so hype about not being a writer? I just don't know. I guess I had my personal thoughts about my career and that is one I didn't want. Maybe because I Iook to current literature the same way I look at the billboard charts and grimace.

But maybe I should pursue this career. Maybe majoring or minoring in English wouldn't be so bad. ( I keep thinking that.) Maybe someone can take me and finally make me live to my full potential. IT'S SAD I WON'T MAKE MYSELF DO IT. I think that if I lived up to my full potential and failed that I would be crushed, but seeing as I don't I can just say, " Oh it's because I'm not living up to my full potential". i'm living my life in a comfort zone, a safe zone, a zeon where I have my scapegoat ready and giving my fresh milk.


I have to make a resume. I have to write a college essay and i'm so stressed out. It has to be perfect. I have to somehow write somehing that will make me stand out from other applicants. Do I have anything that stands out from other kids. They will have my transcripts to see my achievements and college courses. But I have to bring to them something deeper, something that will touch them. Something. I wish I knew how I make my readers cry sometimes, I wish I could channel that into my essay because I'm getting nothing right now.


What am I ranting about? Why am I so insane? Why can't I get what I want? It's not too much.


I just want to be somewhere rather cold, lying on black granite rockk near a small pond that I'm crying all my tears into. I want to be in the dark, I want some gummi bears and green tea. I need my seclusion. I need rest. I want to set the poind of my tears on fire, pollute them as they are doing me. I WANT TO BE FREE.


BLAH BALAHA ALAHABLAHABLAHABALAHABLAHABBALAHABALAHALAHALAHAHALAHALAHBAAHALAHAHA


he Kite runner is a really good book, it's my summer reading book. I should have put more music on my MP3 player. I need to discover a new artist that sings what I need to hear. But theyd have to be gospel. WHY DON'T THEY HAVE GOOD MUSIC ON AOLMUSIC. I NEED TO HEAR SOME NINA SIMONE. What i'd do right now to hear Four women, or please don't let me be misunderstood. DAMN THESE YOUNG FOLk.


I swore I was going to write two paragraphs today.


-Marz

UGHHH lawd, why?

I need rest and my eyes are burning.


-Marz

MYSPACE IN THE WORLD

It seems to me that everyone and their mother has a myspace account. (Literally I’ve seen pages that have their mother linked.) Their has been this war internally and externally with me over myspace. I have at least fifty people yelling at me to get a myspace account so we can be friends on myspace, and I’m like, " Why? WE’re friends in real life." But they roll their eyes at me and say, " you don’t get it". Then I know that soon myspace will be obsolete. Just like how blackplanet used to be hot, but now it’s not. ( Although there is this one website.....LOL) ( I didn’t want top say this.) But I feel as though blogger has lost its zet with certain people. Certain bloggers have died, and some have but haven’t realized it and need to be told. ( If I’m one of those bloggers please tell me so I can wrap it up.) ( Although I write for me and would continue to pollute cyberspace with my trashy verbiage.) I’ve all ready resolved not to get one, and I wouldn’t want to go back on my word. Plus, once I get one then I have to deal with these fifty people wanting to become my myspace friends. (Although if I did get a myspace I know who’d I want to be my friend first.) I don’t know. I’ll think about it, but then when I hear the stories about the child predators and the linking viruses it’s just too much. I’ll see.


Today was a simple day. I woke up and attempted to clean my room but didn’t feel like getting out the bed. I cleane dsome of it, and got together some clothes to give away. I’m giving away the better majority of my wardrobe to make room for my new wardrobe for this skinny body. I got myself together because I needed to go downtown to cash my check from the GAP, and meet my new backup hag, ANN. I have NEVER received this much money in one paycheck. Even before my racist, ageist, and sexist boss reduced my hours, which I found out is against company policy and I could’ve gotten her written up, I still never made this much money. I would have to work a month and a half on my old pay, and about three months on my current pay to earn as much as I do here. I LOVE IT. I didn’t even know what to with the check. So I put it in my savings account.


I got downtown and couldn’t go to the bank I wanted to so I had to walk to the other bank a few blocks away. Afterwards I had to trekt from 17th and Walnut to 4th and South. ( That is a good two miles, maybe three.) ANN wasn’t there, I was too late because of the bank. I walked around South street because I wanted to buy some sneakers but didn’t see any. Although there were these FIRE Adidas, but I still don’t think I could bring myself to buy sneakers that cost over $100.00. I couldn’t even begin to think what my parents would say. I went to work after walking another two miles and I had a GREAT TIME.


I really love my job. The atmosphere, the people, today the customers were beyond rude, but it was all right. I really enjoy my job, and I’m glad that it’s going to be where I spend a good majority of my time. When my eight hours shift was done my mother called me telling me that she would pick me up I ju7st had to wait fifteen minutes. An hour later she arrived as I talked with some of the staff about Philly’s "gayborhood". ( I HAVE SO MUCH TO LEARN ABOUT IT.) I got all my things and went outside and the car wouldn’t start. My mother then proceeded, with my sister, this list of things to try and start the car. First she filled the container with radiator coolant, then she twisted something on the battery post, then she poured four more liquids into different palces of the car. It was insane how she went and grabbed things out of the trunk of the car and jsut came back up to see if it worked. My sister and I ended up pushing the car about a mile to the gas station. The intersection was and is very busy, but I was screaming directions the whole time. The gas didn’t make the car start so she called AAA, which came faster than normally. AS we sat in the car I wanted to scream and holler at my mother. Ask why she came to pick me up if she knew she didn’t have gas, why did she turn the car off if she knew it was acting the way it was. But I refrained. ( That’s maturity.)


I am now here typing past midnight, although I’m going to put this as Saturdays’ psot. IN a few hours I have to wake up for Sunday school because I won’t be in church. (THANK YOU WORK.) I feel kind of bad missing church for work, like I’m cheating on God or something. But he is outside the church also........
But then that leaves the question, " IS god even in the church?"




HMMMM.



I’ll ponder than while in Sunday school as I stare into the face of the church mother. SHE IS JUST SO FLY, ROCKING 82 WITH SUCH POISE.



-Marz

MOVE UP DAY 2006

Today I moved up, from the middle of the aisle to the front. From eleventh grade to twelfth. I am now officially a senior. I’m too overjoyed, and unbelieving. Unbelieving that my time has almost come, is here, and will be. Today I kept thinking back to those times I was SO HURT, HURTING SO BAD in this realm where my depression created a blue aura that permeated EVERYTHING. I would think about how I had six years left. It seemed like such a long time, but I still thought about the six years. AS freshman, sophomore and even this year came and went, I would remember just how much time I had left, and it seemed so long. 3 years, 5 months, 6 days. 2 years 8 months 24 days, 1 year 9 months 24 days. BUT NOW, ONE YEAR FROM RIGHT NOW I WILL BE GRADUATING BY THE GRACE OF GOD.




It still seems so unreal. That my SAT’s are being graded now, that I may have to take them again, but they are basically done. I ONLY NEED.75 OF A CREDIT TO GRADUATE. Although my school is making me take English 4, Social Science, AP Calculus, and AP Physics. I keep thinking about my parents how much secretly I’ll miss them. I’ll never tell them because I am the independent child. I shooed my mother away at kindergarten, middle school, and high school, and they will be shooed from college campus, but I love them SOOO MUCH.




But it’s time for me. Time for me to explore who I am from basic things like what types of music I enjoy, to deeper voyages like finding my life’s purpose. My time is approaching and I want to make sure I’m ready because I don’t want to waste any of the preciousness that I’ve lacked out on for so long.




Lately, I haven’t noticed all my restrictions. That I can’t go anywhere, or listen to this cd or watch that show because I’ve packed my life so I’m not be home. I only see my parents for a few hours on Sunday. Between, school, college, first job, second job, and extra curriculars I haven’t had the time to sit around and wallow and realize my restrictions. I’ve learned to enjoy and celebrate, stress and breakdown within my boundaries, where before I would just sit and cry in them.




Today I told some people about the pastor’s who I’ve decided not to pay much more life. All of these people told me I should leave the church, as if it’s that easy. I told them I couldn’t leave the church and they told me that I should leave my house. One girl, who is now my back-up hag,ANN, offered me a room at her apartment, and some other people are all, “ you could live with me”. But it seems insane to me to live with someone over something this simple. Of course it’s easy to look at it all stressed out but the fact in the mist of fiction is that I’m not having sex nor have I ventured down that path. I know I haven’t reached a place in my life where I could handle such an event maturely and when I am then I will look down that path reflectively and cautiously, because I’d hate to turn out like some of these older gay men out here.(The better majority.... DAMN I tried to hold that one in but I couldn’t.)




A CEREMONIOUS CEREMONY




The assembly started with the announcement over the PA system to come down to the auditorium. I entered late after talking to my counselor who is leaving me for another school. (WHAT SHALL I EVER DO WITHOUT HER?) I walked in and saw all the underclassmen in the back and I went with my fellow classmates in the back section of the first arrangement of rows. I sat down and my class, 2007 excellence manifested, began to perform our skits that gently mocked the faculty and their ways. The auditorium filled with rumbustious laughter and howling. Then my class sat down and the class of 2006, filled the stage with their skits. Some were funny but the others got booed, at least in my head. After that the classes screamed and my class was at a disadvantage by us being the smallest populated class. The class of 2006 gave us this binder filled with FASFA forms anc college book, and we gave them a training bra for support. The whole auditorium got teary-eyed. The one of our classmates said this poem that wasn’t that good, but she downplayed 2006 and showed 07 for the excellence we are, so we all started screaming. Then the class of 06 went up on the stage to make their exit, and my class got up and moved to the front of the auditorium to take our rightful place as seniors; although we have been seniors since about sophomore year with how we are.



Today marked it definitely in my book. I AM A SENIOR. I ONLY HAVE ONE YEAR LEFT. (And what a year I know it will be.) I AM AFRAID TO MY CORE OF WHAT WILL AND MAY HAPPEN. But I’m going to make it through it.(God Willing)



I still can’t believe the time has come, and one year remains.




-Marz

Bareback Fornication with Religion

I wish I was pressed today.

I received the packet on fornication. IN between writing a paper for my college class and cleaning the bathroom, as my father yelled in five minute intervals to do so. I looked at the packet, which was about 15 pages. I laughed, more of a chuckle really, thinking if the pastor’s wife copied the whole bible. She didn’t. I skimmed the pages and saw the classics, " resist the devil and he will flee." The obvious Corinthians 6:9-20 was available, along with the three different versions so that I, PERSONALLY, could see the translation of effeminate to homosexual. The last scripture brought along the disdain I can’t seem to let go for the bible. Which is hard because I’ve been raised to reverence this book. 1 Corinthians 7:25 reads, " now concerning virgins I have no commadment of the Lord, yet I give my judgement , as one that hath obtained mercy of the Lord to the faithful." This person, ( who I think is Paul or John, maybe neither one.) Did not receive any word from God, ther Lord, on what to write, but seeing as he saw himself fit enough he wrote something anyway. ( At least that Is what I took from it.) This relinquished my distrust of the canonical verses once again; and I feel so HORRIBLE for not reading my bible, but I can’t stomach it.



I keep thinking about why they gave me this paper. FAKE MENTOR, alluded to me partaking in sodomy as we talked; and the pastor’s wife definitely thinks that I’m jsut this big whore. These people have fabricated their own insinuations and have brought it to me and they expect me to tell them they are right. The way they bring it to me is that I hate myself, I have such low self esteem that I need some male to validate me. Whenever I feel really low, and lonely and self hateful I go down South Street and find some man to have sex with. Once I have sex with this man, he probably tells me that he loves me and I feel good about myself. THAT’S NOT ME. I’M NO FOOL. Sex , alone, is NEVER love, just recreational pleasure, and I’m displeased daily. ( YOU HEAR ME?) I wonder what kind of idiot they take me for that they believe I would think that because someone sleeps with me I feel loved or am being loved. I’M NOT EVEN HAVING SEX.

The biggest thing that gets me out of ALL OF THIS, is the fact that all of this is a spiral from walking down the street with some tea. ALL I WAS DOING WAS WALKING DOWN THE DAMN STREET, WITH A CUP OF TEA, AND NOW I HAVE PEOPLE IN MY LIFE TRYING TO CURB MY SEXUAL ENDEAVORS. I DON’T HAVE SEXUAL ENDEAVORS. I HAVE NEVER HAD SEX.

I am sickened by the way when we talked she asked me about my spiritual life, and me not knowing what to answer I just said, " Fine,’ and she replied, " HMMMM.... yeah there are still some things we need to work on." (Translation: You still sucking dick I hear.)I am angry by the fact that these people are working so intently to stop me from sinning, when I’m not. I’M LIVID I CAN’T TELL MY PARENTS HOW I FEEL AND I’M EXTREMELY DEPRESSED ABOUT THIS. They would question why I had such a problem with the pastor’s trying to give me scriptures on fornication.

I keep wondering why can’t I jsut push this to the side. It doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t. I’m not having sex. Why should I care that the clergy( even though were Christians) think I’m this gay whore? Why should I have to deal with anything about my sexual decisions when I don’t make any, but to abstain?

The other day as I talked to my mother about college she asked me what I liked so I could study it. I told her I didn’t know because I’m not allowed to live and explore. She talked and I thought about how much freedom is just waiting for me in a year. I thought about leaving this city, the abyss, leaving my house, the cave inside the abyss. I thought about leaving the religion because it is doing a toll on me and I don’t like it. But can I leave it? Can one leave something that has been imprinted on their soul? Can one go from being seen to being heard? Can one go from doing as one says to doing as they do? Can I just neglect the expectations of everyone who prophesied over my mother’s stomach that I’m going to be a bishop over many churches? I believe I can, and I will try.

AS I sat on the couch rolling over and leaning against the inside arm uinder the lamp to read, I threw the papers to my side, and began to cry. I kept thinking, " All I was doing was alking down the street, ALL I WAS GOING WAS GETTING SOME TEA." It feels like the churhc members are constantly attacking me. I don’t want feel this pain anymore. Then I thought about another resolve on sex, because it is just so important to EVERY DAMN ONE IN THE WORLD. Who you’re sleeping with? What gender they are? HOW BIG THEY ARE? HOW TIGHT THEY ARE? HOW GOOD IT FEELS?

I don’t want it. It, being the "it", as in doing IT. Sex. It is just too much. I already made a resolve to wait until the right guy, until I had my college diploma. But who knows what new greater resolve I’ll have to make. This current depression mixed along with already looming fixtures has killed my sex drive. I don’t need one anyway.


I need to press myself again, because I’m depressed and I feel horrible.

-Marz

For once, an unsuppressed SCREAM

The suppresion of feelings was an add along to the destiny of having two minister parents. All of my rather short life I’ve learned to suppress my emotions because first emotions are weak, is a thought that I’ve personally engrained into me. Next, almost any emotions shown is attached to a demon. I’ve learned to deal with problems on my own because they would not be death with even adequately. I was once told that I’m very repressed. I chuckled asking that person do they really think I don’t know that. As to not add anymore feelings to those already compacted, I shall dispose of them here. But the ones that are compacted impose a fear of what will happen when they come out. (It’s only a year from now I’ll be graduating.)

YOU CAN MEET ME IN THE CHURCH, IT’S GOIN DOWN.

Sidebar: I try to stay away from that crunk and B type music because it’s all garbage to me. But that song always makes me want to go and dance. YOU CAN MEET CLUB IT’S GOIN DOWN. The beat is so damn infectious like a damn beyomne or kelis song. DAMN. End Sidebar.


Last night after I returned home from shool, work, then college, I began to eat my dinner as I watched Last Comic Standing. ( BTW I’m feeling Josh blue and Roz and the guy with the bighead.) the show went off and both of my favorites from that group went into the semifinals so I was happy. My sister was on the phone with the pastor’s wife, whioch disturbed me for so many reasons. But the most irritating of them all was the fact that the girl is on punishment and she keeps finding loopholes. The pastor’s wife is like my sister’s counselor or something, and my sister tells this woman her whole life, because m,y sister has reached the age where she doesn’t like my mother anymore. I look at the child with forbearance, because I want to tell her about letting people know all her business but she’ll learn. I have trust issues, and I trust no one. And currently there is no one on my deeper levels of trust, because I give things to people as life goes along and see what they can take. But whatever. The news came on and I finished eating my chicken, and this report came on about this woman stabbing a mailman. I began to laugh tumultuously when the news reporter said the woman just walked up to the mailman and sia,d ‘ It’s you day to die”. I was just so tired from my day, that the humor was just so dark and fitting.

My sister walked over to me and told me the pastor’s wife wanted to talk to me. Of course I’m reluctant to answer the phone. My sister is like this woman’s slave, so she is standing next to me screaming, “HERE!”. I told her to hold on and let me get the chiclken grease off of my hands. I finally got the phone.

She began by asking if it was me, “my sheep”. I said yes it was. She then began asking me how I was, but her voice has one of those tones where she asks one question but means another thing. (I love that I can interpret women at times.) I told her fine, then she asked me how work was. She obviously was mad because I missed church on Sunday, and she really wants me in church. Because she doesn’t want me out on the streets catching a homosexual demon again. ( if I had one to begin with, it didn’t leave soo… ummmm.) I told her that they moved me to the register and we talked about having to tlak to people. She then asked me what my hours were for this Friday. I told her. I knew this question had another question behind it, like when someone asks, “ Is someone sitting here?” She then had a disappointed sound in her voice, because her son wanted me to ome to hear him preach on Friday., IF YOU DON’T REMEMBER THERE ARE TWO SONS. THE ONE THAT SAW ME, AND THE ONE WHO GIVES ME SELF HATING DL HOMO VIBES. The self hating one wants to be my straight in jesus mentor, basically my personal Donnie McClurkin. Everytime I see him he wants to talk about what’s happening in my life, and know what’s going on with me; because he thinks I’m so misconstrued and such a troubled youth. The pastor than asked about another date in june and I told her I could probably change my schedule so I could see him preach. She said that he really wanted me there, and I started to think maybe it was some type of gay be straight ministry. Or her son would use me as an example of a exorcied heterosecual. She than asked me something else that I can’t remember, but it was insane. Then she told me that she would be giving me a pamphlet that she REALLY wanted me to read and pay attention to. I wanted to know what the packet was about and she began to palliate telling me her phone was about to cut off, she sounded rushed. But that I should ask my sister what the pamphlet was about and tell my sister she loves her. I hung up the phone, and asked my sister what the pamphlet was about. It took a good while to get her to answer, “ oh well Pastor C says that she’s going to be giving out a pamphlet on Fornication”.

I WAS ALLL TOOO THROUGH. ALL TOO THROUGH. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH


I AN’T EVEN BEGAN TO EXPLAIN HOW I FEEL ABOUT THIS. THERE ARE SO MANY ELEMENTS TO BREAK DOWN.

First, obviously she has been having conversations about me with her son who exorcized me. I want to know what they’ve been saying about me.

Second, I want to know why the pastor is so intent in making sure I'm in church. IS it really because she wants me there or does she think that I'm going to stray back into being gay. WHEN WAS I BEING GAY OR HAVING GAY SEX TO BEGIN WITH.

Third, why is this man so intent on trying to protect me from being gay. Why does he want to be my mentor? WHy does he want to be involved in helping me? WHY CAN'T HE JUST LEAVE ME ALONE? When I find someone I want to be my damn mentor I'll claim them, anhd I'm constantly looking for that person; but I've yet to come across anyone applicable.

Fourth, I have this mixed feeling because I know that in their minds they are just trying to look out so that my soul doesn't go to hell BUT MY LAWD.

Fifth, why do I need this fornication pamphlet? I'M NOT HAVING SEX. My sex drive is nonexistent now. I'm not turned on by anyone. Has anyone noticed I haven't written a post about sex in soo long. I don't want to have sex, not now, and maybe not never. ( Alright not never may just be in my rage. LS) And religisouly, according to them, I can't even be a homosexual because I'm not having sex or have had it. Also, if they think I'm having sex, they obviously think I'm having homosexual fornication. (Isn't all homosexual sex fornication thought because marriage is illegal here? LS) So all of this went from me being on 13th street buying some tea. That is all I wanted, I wanted to get some green tea because it was the winter time and I wanted something hot to drink. Someone sees me, and now I'm this gay whore. WELL EXCUSE THE FUCK OUT OF ME FOR WANTING TEA FROM COSI. EXUCSE THE HELL OUT OF ME FOR THERE NOT BEING ANY COSI'S IN THE HOOD. EXCUSE ME FOR NOT WANTING TO BUY SOME NASTY DUNKIN DONUTS TEA. All I was doing was getting some tea, and I get spied on, exorcized, and now I'm allegedly having gay or straight sex. I HATE SEX NOW. I TRULY DO. It's lost any type of appeal it had on me.

There are too many points to recollect but I'm just so through with it all. I want it all to be done with, but I can't. I already told that woman that I would go see her son preach. I already told her that I would support my wanna be mentor. I don't know what he's going to pull, what he's going to say to me. Every other time he's like, " How are you brother? Is EVERYTHING all right in your life?" basically asking have I been sucking dick recently, "No I'm fine". Which translates to, " no I have not been drinking semen, nor have I ever done such a thing".

YOU CANB FIND ME IN THE SCHOOL, IT'S GOIN DOWN

Today was my final for Honors PreCalculus, and I know I failed that one. I've been so stressed out by so many things yet to be written and then this pastor thing. I also left my calculator at home, and doing precalculus without a calculator is like frying chicken without a stove, and a chicken. All year long the teacher has been giving me looks of disapproval when he sees me givign up. I've gone through so much this year, and it makes no point in telling my teachers. Why would I? WHat do I expect? PITY. SYMPATHY. HELL NO. I know that life happens and you have to move on and school is seperate form home ( and church now,) so I'm not one to come to the teacher and say, "Oh boo hoo my mother is in the hospital". Because not only o they not care, but in the real world, college and beyond, no one is going to care, so it makes no point. But his glares always make me feel like a failure. I could blame it on his hard tests the reason why I'm failing, I could blame it on many things. but in the end it was my job to go get the grades and I didn't. BUt as I looked through my notebook today I saw that I took notes and I did work, and my textbook was destroyed, especially for having it half a year. So I did do work, but I still didn't get it. But again that's my fault, I guess.

To replace this class that I failed, I'm taking Precalculus at the Community COllege. I have to take the second Precalculus class in the summer so that I can take Calculus in the fall semester. This year has been horrible academically. I feel like I've failed myself, and now I won't be able to go to my first choice colleges. I just have to lower my eyes a little to Penn State from NYU and Cornell. (Doesn't that make Penn State sound like they are horrible when it really is a good school.) This year has demolished almost every career aspiration I once had. Sex therapist=DEAD. Chemist or chemical engineer=DEAD. I AM JUST ALL TOO THROUGH.

I'm so glad Clay turned blogworld onto Fiona Apple, she is just giving it to me today.



My sister has been acting a hot mess, and I've wanted to address her a long time ago here. On her last report card she failed three class, two of which she took in eighth grade. She might be in danger of failing the ninth grade and might have to go to summer school. When my parents went to have a conversation with her about her grades, she told them no to their resolutions. She said she wouldn't do her homework if she dind't want to. She wouldn't catch the bus my father told her to, she doesn't have to listen to them, and bLAH BLAH BLAH. Now in my house that is an ass whipping, because my parents were being nice by talking to her about her abyssmal grades, not like the other ones where great either. My father went to take care of her, because mommy was just oiut the hospital and dying, figuratively, on the couch. She locked herself in the room, and my father kicked it down. Now the door doesn't have hinges and she ois constantly screaming, " Close my door," and then she has to pick the whole thing up and cover as much of the door as she can. ( it's quite funny to watch.) She was put on extreme punishment, and since then she got suspended for holding some girls cell phone and getting caught with it in school, when it's against shcool policy.

She thought it was so great of her to do sucjh a thing. She showed how much of a good friend she was by not giving the phone back. Again the principal reasoned with her but she got suspended. She is so concerned about having friends. She is so concerned about being popular. She makes my eyes burn with disdain. I don't like the emotional toll this is having on my mother because she is trying so hard, and my sister is acting a hot mess. For two weeks she began coming home at 8 four hours after her normal time, and my mother is too weak from her herbs to deal with her. I personally want to punch her in the mouth and tell her to get her ass straight. But that's not my place. Then my father is trying to guilt trip my mother by telling her that she took the job as a crossing guard to raise the children and that if she was being a good mother than my sister's grades would be higher and she would be good. But my sister is fourtenn she should be concerned about her own future, and that's the thing she sin't. I keep looking at her and thinking about when I was her age I was so interested in colleges. That's all I did was look at colleges. This one is just a mess.

She has been finding a way to get around all of the punishments. Using the phone past ten to call her friends for homework help, " lying bitch". I really don' like the toll this is tkaing on my mother. When I have to talk to her and she is on the verge of tears telling me how smart my sister is and how she just wants her to use her intelligence but she keeps acting stupid, then she always says, "and you know I HATE that word".


ANd what makes me the angriest si the fact that I had a hand in raising that young woman that disgust my soul to the core. I raised that girl for a good six years. I helkped with her homework, made sure she was all right after school for a good five hours. I received the physical abuse for mistakes she did. SHe broke something, IGOT BEAT because I should have been watching her. Her homework isn't done, I GOT BEAT because I should've made sure she finished. THE TV IS HOT I got beat because I should've kept her from watching tv.


But in the end, she's not important in my life. The church isn't important. School is somewhat important. But the most important is me. If my sister turns out to be some wretched person on welfare that's her fault. She's marking the lines of her path, the same way I'm makring mines. I wish I could make my path surpass the church.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhh


"I took off my glasses while you were yelling at me once, more than once, so as not to see you see me react. Shoulda put them shoulda put them on again, so I could see you see me sincerely yelling back."- Fiona Apple.

I'm sometimes amazed I haven't picked up a drug habit. (Wait I'm addicted to writing. I need to find a 12 step program.)

666

They say the apocalypse is today, because it's 666, the devil's number, or the mark of the beast. Six more hours to go and we'll see I guess.

I had an AP Chemistry and Honors English final today, so not many words today.

However, sometimes I guess I forget that people read my blog, and they can leave comments. Yesterday's post went with this post, which was a result of this. I know who I am, slightly, and I definitely know that I like males. The thing that I was trying to address was how I tried to let the event go like, "HAHAHAHA the ministers exorcized me, now I won't go to hell." I went around joking about it nonchalantly trying to make myself get a laugh off of it myself. When really it hurt and it was just another issue that I tried to disregard or ignore, or act like it had no relevance to why I've been feeling the way I do now. But I know better. I've been dealing with it in my spare moments, but whatever.....GOD MY EYES ARE BURNING AND I'M SO SLEEPY.

EDIT


So these old men just don't give up. Last night I went to catch the trolley home from a long day, and sat down because I was wearing some cute shoes. ( which of course meant they hurt.) As I sat reading my trigonometry book, these two older men sitting on both sides of me began to stare at me. Men are starting to stare at me, and I always rub my head because I think there is something on my head and I look insane and people are like, " why does that boy have a rubber chicken glued to his head?" BUT THERE WAS NO RUBBER CHICKEN. The one man left and got on one of the trolleys, and the other man got on my trolley. A girl sat in between our seats and I continued to read. But then she got off, and he began GLARING HIS EYES INTO MY SOUL. I stared at him, and usually I stae people down but his eyes were so damn big and poppy. I COULDN'T WIN. then he kept staring and glancing at me, and staring me down. The whole trolley ride, then when I went to get off I looked back to my seat to see if I left something. I saw his head turning straight from looking at my ass. THESE OLD CHILD MOLESTING WHORES NEED TO LEAVE ME ALONE. ( I can't take it.) But Kiki has told me that I should tell them I'm 19 because child molesters like there MEAT to be young and fresh. Also my fake name is going to be Michael, although it already is. Or I could use some derivation of MArcus, Mark, MArquis, Mar, something. (LOL)


I told my couselor Ms. Bonnett, who is leaving me and I'm sort of crushed about it, and she said it's the boy hooker looks. She said that with the other old guy I should've seen how much he was willing to pay to touch my skin. (INSANE I KNOW) I told Kiki and she said I like the attention. NO I DON'T. I don't like feeling like a damn piece of meat in a butcher shop with a bunch of dogs. OLD PERVERTED DOGS THAT WON'T LEARN NEW TRICKS. I think I need to get fat again, because when I was fat, men only hit on me sporadically to get some booty.


WHAT??? CLAY HAS ME ON HIS SIDE LIST? I feel all special. Have I thanked all the people that link me. THANK YALL SO MUCH.


-Marz

The recapture of my tranquility. An attempt

I am a problem. I don’t have one, but I am one. A problem that the church thought they could solve. So maybe I was more of an equation than a problem, or maybe the type of problem I was, was a math problem. WHO KNOWS? But seeing as the church tried to solve my problem I guess I could say I was an equation instead. The variables were spotted by the pastor’s son. Cute outfit, down in gay Philly, I must be gay right? He was right? But he was just guessing what X was, he had no clue. But I guess it’s lucky for him to have been able to guess X at first glance, saved him time for other problems, equations.




He ran to his mother showing her the solved equation, she surely could do something knowing that X=GAY, the problem. She showed him that somewhere I was in the problem, and somewhere she added a lack of love. A love I was searching for that I couldn’t get from my family, because I was so pained.



I remember the day the pastor’s wife, the pastor’s son’s mother, told me that her son saw me downtown and is there something we need to resolve, answer. I was so shocked by the whole event. The fact that someone went looking for a problem to solve in the first place, sorry equation, was so awe strickening to me. But I knew that soon the pastor’s wife would take action into her hands, trying to FIX MY PROBLEM. Can a problem be fixed? Is it unfixed to begin with? I don’t think problems are broken, they just are, and fixing a problem just makes room for them to become unfixed, problems again right? (I’m rambling. I know.)




So I was exorcized. I knew it was going to happen. I remember telling people that the church people were going to exorcise me. I tried to act like it had no affect on me. I had been through many exorcisms before. But I knew as I walked into that spring day’s air that I was just so speechless. Words left me. I walked down the street indifferent to all my surroundings. I remember I brought some bread and ice cream, because my mother was in the hospital and I was watching the house. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t talk. People wanted to talk to me. They wanted to talk about, my mother, but sound eluded my ears, and I could barely hear one decibel.




I joked about it later. Told people how insane it was. But it really hit something in me and broke it, turned it into a problem, or maybe an equation I could only answer with time and wisdom gained by living.



I remember I was so angry that something would happen like this for being seen at a certain part of the city. I was angry the way I was treated as if I had a disease. The cure would have been prayer, maybe that was the answer to the equation, problem, my being gay. I remember I was just so turned off by people. I didn’t want to like any gender. I just wanted to be alone. My WHORE MOANS faded extremely. I didn’t have an erection for a month. I didn’t want to look at men. I didn’t want to look at women. I just wanted to be left alone. I was attracted to darkness, being in the dark. I just wanted seclusion.



Along with my mental silence came a loss of words. I’ve felt like my blog has been lacking, my writing has been lacking, my life has been lacking, but I didn’t know what it was…. And I still don’t.



But…..it seems like a chasm has opened in my soul and words are pouring out. There is so much sadness and I don’t know where it is coming from. I keep thinking of how the people think they have supplied me with a cure, answer, and fixed my problem. How I’m supposed to believe I have a problem. I’m still interested in why I felt the way I felt. I’ve been exorcized before, but I guess because this one wasn’t voluntary. I DON’T KNOW.



I’ve been thinking about colleges. My life. My future. What do I want to do with my life? Who do I want to be? What do I want to do with my degrees? WHO AM I? I have definitely changed in who I am as a person to someone else. Matured into whomever. I think I need to get back in touch with Marz. I’ve been on a journey to recapture my tranquility, because being unsettled and disarrayed in this all ready confused world would be too much for me, it would be adding an exponent to just life in general.



I don’t know what I’m saying. Have I made any complete thoughts? I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out.


I hope.


-Marz

SAT'S, CRAZY MEN AND AUNTIES.

This morning I awoke at seven, an hour later than usual, and for an unusual occasion. I was destined to go and take the test that will determine the rest of my life-as my counselors put it-the SAT. I got ready, putting on this cute outfit that I brought together with my work discount and the thrift store. I filled my bookbag with yogurt, and apple sauces packs, gummi bears and worms, three sandwiches, water, and a quart of green tea. I grabbed my umbrella because the clouds threatened me saying they were going to rain. Also, whenever I wear my Timberlands it rains.


After getting my mother from my father, it’s their wedding anniversary, we both rallied in the car. WE drove, again, to the University of Pennsylvania, as I talked about our trip to Greenwich Village in July to visit New York University, and ate the fish from Friday night- the chemicals are supposed to help with remembering things. We arrived at the school and I went in and everyone stared at me. (My outfit was quite a nice one.) The SAT was the SAT, I can’t talk about it or they will track me down and make my scores void. But I feel I did better. The first time I took them, last month, I didn’t get a lot of rest. Also, I expected my mother to make this big country breakfast for her baby, and when I came downstairs she said to me, "so...you gonna grab a pop tart or what?" That is why I made sure to bring so much food. When I was testing I could feel how the food helped. Because when I ate during the breaks it wasn’t like eating something normally when you feel it go down and sit in your stomach, it seemed like it vanished as soon as it hit my esophagus and turned into this energy. I also didn’t answer as many questions as last time. SO that should help me out, I didn’t skip whole sections, but if I didn’t know something I didn’t try and guess like last time. (By the way last time I got a 1610 which is horrible by my standards, and not what I need for any schools I want to go to.)


After leaving the SAT room feeling miraculously GREAT, I ventured outside to see if anyone from my school was there. I knew some registered for Penn but hadn’t seen them earlier. One of the girls from my school saw me and said, " OH Marcus, you actually don’t look that abd today". She always jokingly calls me ugly, and I always jokingly tell her that if I were suicidal she would feel horrible living with the grief of knowing I killed myself because she called me ugly. WE walked down to the trolley stop, and talked until she got off at City Hall. I got off at 13th street, because I felt like walking around Center City before going to work. I went to Border’s and looked at some college books, then I went to some shoe stores, because I need some new shoes in my life. Waiting for the train, I began to think about some issues I’ve been going through lately. I’ll record them later here, but I’m trying to work through them, and I think I’m going to come out the victor- but who is the loser to begin with?


Recently a LOT of men have been hitting on me. From the DL boys "PSSTING," me in dark places when no one is watching, to the "HOW YOU DOIN’?" boys. I have a post coming on this, but it’s very strange/weird/new, and I don’t really care for it that much, because I’m not into any type of boyfriend, romantic, or sexual notion. However, as I waited for the bus this older black men walked past me. He gave me a feel of either being crazy or homeless, or just a tad bit looney mixed, the senility that comes with old age. His hands looked to have some type of oil on them as if he were changing the oil on a car or changing a tire. But he walked past me, then turned around and stood behind the wood pole. We then had this LONG conversation that crossed so many boundaries. ( I won’t write all the details.) But he started by telling me that I’m hot, he just kept repeating that I’m so hot, and asking me if I knew how hot I was. He kept giving me these lustful glares, and I didn’t like it AT ALL. I don’t like being lusted after. He continued on asking me if I could just look at him. Then he started asking me the questions. (Name, age, blah blah blah.) I would’ve thought someone of his age would have been deterred by me saying I’m sixteen. But he just sepped back and looked at my ass, and said, " You are too hot... sixteen?" He then began asking if I had a boyfriend, I told him kind of. ( Which is a lie in some sorts, but I consider myself my boyfriend, and of course Jesus, so I didn’t feel so bad that I was fabricating a figment.) Then he asked if I was committed to this boyfriend, and I told him kind of. Then he told me to tell my boyfriend that he has a crush on me. Then he proceeded to ask if I was uncomfortable with him begin around me because he would leave. I wanted to answer yes, but he gave me this creepy child molester rapist vibes like if I said yes he would pull out a knife and try and lead me down some dark alley-retaliating because he was rejected- so I said I was alright. He then began asking if he could walk me wherever I was going because he wanted to be in my presence. After every few completed thoughts, he would step back and just say, "you are so hot." He then asked if I could come over his house and he could just stare at me. Then he asked if he gave me his number would I call him. He kept saying, " I need a yes or no, it’s just that simple." Then he just stood staring at me for a minute, and I think he was getting off on me. ( I WAS JUST TOO THOUGH.) Then he asked me to just look at him. It was insane but I really thought he was going to try something, because he had that unstable demeanor to himself. I looked at him, and then he took off his hat how the men from the forties would have in the presence of a woman. He then looked at me and said, " I don’t mean any disrespect, but you are so damn hot." He said some other insanity, then he got kind of close and I grabbed my tea bottle ready to bash him, because I thought he was going to try and kiss me, and I’d be damned if that would’ve been my first kiss. But then he asked me if he could just touch my skin, and I told him "NO!" Then he says to me, " I’m going to do it anyway". He propped his finger from the fist he held, and went to jab it at me slowly, and I moved quickly. His face had this look to it. I could only imagine it as being rejected by a young boy because you’re older, or something like that. He apologized fervently, again, and then told me that I’m so hot like ten more times as he licked his lips and stared at my body. Then he walked down the street and at the end of the block he turned the corner and began to stare at me from around the corner. I WAS SO FREAKED OUT, AND I SWORE HE WAS GOING TO GET A DAMN GUN.


The man finally went over to these other older men and began talking in this louder rowdier voice about sports or something of the like. I began to think about how one his age probably couldn’t have what he desired as a youth by what others told him, or what he told himself, and now he wants it but can’t. BECAUSE I’M NOT LIKE THAT, also because HE IS A CHILD MOLESTING WHORE. The bus then came and I was late to work.


Today I was started on the register at work. Again, I don’t know what and what I can’t dispose here, so I won’t say much. But I was so angry when this one man pulled out his tiara and wanted to queen out on me about me folding the clothes. He, his boyfriend rather, was the third customer I’ve ever rung up in my life, and he picks up the clothes lisping saying, "At the GAP we attended folding classes". BITCH THIS AIN’T THE GAP. (Breathe in, breathe out) But I did good, and it was hard doing that money after taking the SAT which starts at 7:45 and ends at 1:30. We don’t have the calculators where you can enter the amount the customer pays, so I had to do ALL MENTAL MATH. After doing about an hour of quadratic equations and solving equations I was all too through with math. But I got it together.


After work I went to wait on the bus and I saw my AUNT T. AUNT T had a nervous breakdown and is schizophrenic and bipolar. To the normal person she would like a loon talking to herself, walking around with her gallons of bleach to suffice her OCD. I didn’t really want to talk to her after my busy day, so I waited until the bus came to walk past her-she didn’t notice me anyway. When we went to get on the bus, she asked me to help her with her bags. She had about twelve bags along with this huge window fan, and I wondered how, if I hadn’t come, she expected to get this into her house. I got her things on the bus, and she gave me two dollars. I sat down and read the summer reading book, the Kite Runner, which I like so far. When she went to get off, she found it very coincidental that I was getting off at the same stop. She was also very happy. While walking her bags to her house I told her it was me. She was so shocked, because she said I looked different and got so skinny. ( EVERYONE HAS BEEN SAYING THAT LATELY LIKE I WAS 5,000 LBS.)



I got her things into her house, and she gave me more money, nothing major. I thanked her, and she went to use the bathroom. She told me she would walk me to where I had to go, but I assured her it was all right. I would hate to have to be worried about her, and myself in my neighborhood past midnight. She kept saying she would walk me, and I just ahd to tell her I was leaving, and not to worry. I walked through the streets on high alert, paranoid to everything. These men greeted me, and I didn’t know if it was a rape call or a murder call. (My paranoia gets insane.) I walked briskly thinking about how my aunt needs to be careful. It’s definite that she didn’t even know me, but was going to be willing to allow me into her house. That could be so dangerous. Also I wanted to know why she would purchase twelve bags of items and that huge fan when she could only carry around five. SHE ONLY GOT OUT THE HOSPITAL NOT TOO LONG AGO. I said many prayers for my aunt, and her protection, and thought about how God looks out for his people. Because if someone as trusting as my Aunt T is making it through arriving home past midnight paying strangers and letting them come into her house; then everyone else should feel secure. I DON’T KNOW. But what I do know is that today wa a crazy day, and I seem to be working through some of my issues, and I can feel them breaking down inside me.

AND, YES, I’M MAD NOBODY ASKED ME ANY QUESTIONS. (LOL but it’s cool.)
-Marz

SABBATICAL

I need a break, especially with finals all next week, and some personal issues.

But for my readers the time has come for the ask me anything you want post.

I'll answer them eventually....the bell has rung.

I'm off.



-Marz