My Life… as a Lesbian, Catholic Teenager

I sound like an oxymoron to a lot of people. If somebody asked me if it was difficult to be an outed gay catholic teenager, I’d probably say it isn’t. Which is partly a lie, and partly not. It’s not difficult because the other Catholic’s in the community treat me like shit, which they don’t. It’s not difficult because people claim I have to be one or the other, which people don’t. It’s simply because I don’t know where there’s a balance. It may sound stupid to a lot of people, to be so faithful to a religion that hates such a big part of who I am. But the way I see it, is that just because the people who are meant to proclaim God’s word haven’t yet been able to understand that God has just as much love for people like me as heterosexuals, should I no longer be faithful to God? It’s almost the opposite as don’t shoot the messenger.

It’s like in high school, when a friend asks somebody to tell you a message, and that somebody messes up the message and ends up telling you that your friend called you a horrible name or something, you don’t quit talking to your friend because the messenger wasn’t able to get the message right. Although some Catholic leaders choose to mess up the message, or hey, maybe they don’t realize they’re messing up the message, I’m not going to hate the being that is sending the message. God loves me for who I am, and that’s a big part of why I’m able to keep going as a Catholic and gay teenager.

People wouldn’t necessarily call me a “true” Catholic, and I think that that’s bullshit. You don’t need to go to church to be Catholic. You don’t need to know the priest by name to be Catholic (which I do, btw.) All you need to be Catholic is your beliefs. I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth. I believe in Jesus Christ, his son, our Lord, and I believe in the Holy Spirit. Even though the God that I believe in may be different from another Catholic’s God, the point is is that I have beliefs that guide me on my life’s journey, and I don’t have a care in the world if anybody else agrees with me. No matter what, if anybody tells you that you aren’t who you feel you are; gay, straight, Catholic, Agnostic, Buddhist; tell that person to STFU or GTFO, because you are who you feel you are, and God, whoever your God may be, loves every bit of you. I’m not talking about the Catholic God, I’m talking about my God, and your God, and the God that belongs to the little kid who’s playing in the park.

There’s probably a lot of Catholics out there who disagree with who I am for being gay, and there are probably a lot of non-Catholics who disagree with who I am for being Catholic, but either way, I’m who I am, and God loves every bit of me and doesn’t care that I’m an oxymoron. It’s hard sometimes to be okay with the way I am, both ways really. I’ve spent nights awake wondering if it’s okay that I’m gay if I’m Catholic, and I’ve also spent nights awake wondering if it’s okay that I’m Catholic if I’m gay. But usually, those nights all end with me telling myself that it’s okay if I’m me.

“About three things, I was absolutely positive…”

Those of you familiar with the book, I’ve just finished reading Twilight. I know what you’re thinking, “OMG. I LOVE THAT BOOK.” No. That is not what I’m thinking. This book was the most ridiculous, simple, disgusting story I’ve ever read. Not like monsters, and cutting off limbs disgusting. I mean, “teaching-little-girls-that-it’s-cute-when-boys-stalk-you” disgusting. If you haven’t read the book, I suggest you do, not for the wonderful sentence structure, or the beautiful vocabulary, but for the humour-the humour that isn’t actually supposed to exist. I doubt Stephenie Meyer intended for her book to be a hilarious story about a stupid teenage girl and a ridiculously constructed idea of a vampire, but that’s what it turned out to be.

“About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Edward was a vampire. Second, there was part of him — and I didn’t know how potent that part might be — that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.”

Like, WTF. How weird is that? No joke, the entire book is like, “Bella, I want to drink your blood.” “Edward, I love you.” “Bella, you smell so good.” “Edward, never leave me.” It’s pathetic.

About three things I’m absolutely positive:

First, Edward is not a real vampire.
Anybody with a half a brain would know that the only true version of vampires in modern literature of any kind comes from the one and only Joss Whedon. I don’t know what made Mrs. Meyer assume that she could change the rules of vampires as she pleased, but whoever told her this is a dimwit. Vampires do not sparkle in the sunlight. They die. Vampires do not appear in the corner of teenage girls’ bedrooms to watch them sleep because vampires are not able to step into somebody’s house without an invitation. Stephenie Meyer doesn’t know anything about vampires, and I really wish that she had done some research before teaching millions of twelve year old girls all over the world false truths about vampires. Come on, Steph. Do some research:

“Stephenie Meyer says that she doesn’t actually know much about the long tradition of vampire stories. She has not even read the classic of classics, Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1897), not to even mention Anne Rice.” Source: http://www.twilightmoonlighter.com/

Second, there was a part of him – and I knew how ridiculous this part of him was – that was stalking her.
I don’t care what anybody says. It is not “cute” when a man stalks a girl the way Edward does to Bella. It is not “romantic” that he saves her from everything because he is following her everywhere. It is not “adorable” that he hides in the trees outside her house to wait until she falls asleep so he can sneak into her room and watch her sleep. It is weird, and illegal. Meyer seems to forget that in the normal world, Edward would have been ARRESTED for stalking. It’s not romantic, adorable or SO CUTE, it’s gross. Hell, if my BFF came to me and told me about some pale, cold guy who kept following her everywhere, I’d tell her to call the cops, not to start dating the guy. Goodness.

And third, she is unconditionally and irrevocably a stupid, appearance-obsessed, teenager girl.
Isabella Swan is not as amazing as all the Twi-fans make her out to be. In fact, she is plain stupid. I honestly do not understand how stupid a girl has to be to stick around and wait while some guy who wants to “suck her blood” charms himself into her pants. I’m not even kidding, all this girl talks about is how beautiful Edward is, and how she can’t believe he’s with her. Hey Bella! Gain some confidence, and maybe you wouldn’t have to date a fricken’ vampire. If this girl went to my school, I swear to God, she’d get verbally abused constantly, and the kids at my school are quite accepting of differences.

Both of these characters are ridiculous. Actually, all of the characters in the book are absurd.

“When you read the book, it’s like, ‘Edward Cullen was so beautiful I creamed myself.’ I mean, every line is like that. He’s the most ridiculous person who’s so amazing at everything. I think a lot of actors tried to play that aspect. I just couldn’t do that. And the more I read the script, the more I hated this guy, so that’s how I played him, as a manic-depressive who hates himself. Plus, he’s a 108 year-old virgin so he’s obviously got some issues there.” Source: Robert Pattinson

“Anywhere we’d go for Twilight was a psychotic situation. The sound was deafening, and it’s thoughtless, as well…You get a slew of all these bullshit questions like, ‘What’s it like to kiss a vampire?’ and ‘How much do you love Robert?’ Then you’ll get one that’s actually real, but you’re like, ‘No, I can’t right now, I can’t even consider [it].” Source: Kristen Stewart

Even the actors who play the characters hate it. See? It’s absurd. Although, I do encourage you to read it. It’s hilarious.

I don’t need your pity

This is the blog share post I wrote about previously. It’s a little late, however, amazing!

Dear world:

Just because I do things by myself does not mean I need or want
your sympathy. So when I tell you I’m going to a concert and you ask “with
who?” and I respond “oh, no one”… the pained look upon your face
goes unwarranted.

And probably says more about YOU than it does ME.

I am an independant woman, and choose to be that way. I’ve travelled
by myself, just a single girl in the big city, to parts of Belgium and
France. I’ve moved to far-flung corners of this country by myself and
- believe it or not – survived.

So what is it about me that makes you think I can’t or don’t want to
be on my own?

Is it because I talk really fast and ask a lot of questions? Is it
because I can small-talk with the best of them and clown about to
break the ice?

Maybe it’s that you just don’t really know me. Maybe it’s you just
don’t know that at the end of the day, when 5:45 rolls around, I don’t
really crave the presence of others. All I want is to go home and
spend some time in my own head.

Or maybe, when it comes down to it, maybe there is something I know
that you don’t.

That there’s something just so liberating about doing things by yourself.

Something just so wonderful about going to the movies and not feeling
bad when you laugh at all the wrong parts. Not feeling embarassed when
you cry your eyes out at the end.

Something just so pure about going to a concert by yourself and
singing at the top of your lungs in the world’s most painful key,
hollering with the best of them and bopping your head and stomping
your feet with however much enthusiasm as you like.

Ain’t no one going to hold it against you.

Of course I like having friends. Of course I like to be social. But I
also like to be solitary. I also like my quiet time.

And just because YOU’RE scared to face the world by yourself doesn’t
make ME pathetic for doing so.

What’s Really Cool About Blogging

What I absolutely adore about blogging is being able to share your mind and ideas with other people all over the world. Thanks to Megan, I found a beautiful thing called a Blog Share. She posted a link to And You Know What Else, and this person introduced me to the idea of a way to post anonymously on other people’s blogs. Everybody let her know they wanted to participate, and then, later they e-mailed her their anonymous post. You then receive the anonymous post you are to post on your blog.

This is a wonderful thing that I’m really excited about. It’s a chance for other people to see my writing, and for me to learn about other blogs that are written by people just as creative, and opinionated as I am. Here’s a list of the participants, and I encourage everybody to check them out. There’s rules about this blog share that I can’t tell you where my post is posted, and so I ask that if you find it, you keep it to yourself, however, I still dare you to try and find it!

And You Know What Else
Andrea Unplugged
Arctic-ulate
Bright Yellow World
Bwildered
Catheroominations
Did I Say That Outloud?
Dispatches from the Failed Mommy Club
Full of Snark
Heidikins
Hot Chicks Dig Smart Men
Just Below 63
The Little Goat
Northland Adventures
Not the Daddy
O is for Olson
Red Red Whine
Rediscovering Me
Reflections in the Snow-covered Hills
The Reluctant Grownup
Sauntering Soul
Serendipity Now
Snarke
So, This Is a Treadmill
Thinking Some More
Time for Change
Together They Come
Wondering and Pondering

The next post I post tomorrow morning will be the anonymous post I received by e-mail. Read it, comment, enjoy.

A Letter To Swine Flu

Hey you,

So, it seems just like last week that you were destroying my life with your headaches, and your coughing. OH WAIT. That was last week. I hate you. I hope you realize how much you’ve ruined my life. Not actually, but you know. You should know, because you were there. You were there for a whole week. Right before I was supposed to go see my grandmother last weekend, I started feeling a headache, and ridiculous muscle soreness. So, basically, I hate you. Still. I was also supposed to see one of my BFFs who lives in Frt. MacMurray, but I couldn’t, because I got swine flu and wasn’t allowed to fly on a plane.

You ruin my life. And I hope you realize I hate you.

Yours truly.

“His Last Resort”

If you throw me an @frealityy on Twitter, or a text to my stupid Samsung Cleo, or a Facebook message between 12:37PM and 2:00PM from Monday to Friday, I’ll be in the drama room at my school helping my brotha-from-anotha-motha (A.K.A. my foster brother) put on St. Patrick’s High School Drama Department presents an adaptation of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. However, some days when he feels like he’s too tired to stay at school all day, or he woke up late, and needs to go home to take a shower, my drama teacher decides to let the kids put on some improvised skits. Today was a particularly fun day.

After I watched everybody put on decently funny improvs about a variety of subjects, while working on my french essay* (which is due right now, but instead I’m writing this blog post during french class), she shared with the class about a type of improv where one person pretends to type on a typewriter and tell a story while three people offstage make sound effects to the story while two people act out the story speechless. It sounded like fun, and so, I closed my laptop, turned to my BFF, and said: “This should be fun.” Just as I said that, I regretted it. This obnoxious, egotistical, vain, little grade ten kid showed up in front of the imaginary type writer and started his story:

“Once upon a time, there was a boy named Stanley who was always very lonely. He wanted somebody to be with so bad that he turned to his last resort. To be gay…”

I immediately turned to my BFF, and we both had the same confused, annoyed, shocked face. She and I both said, at the same time, “WTF.”* Soon, he finished his improv, but not before he further insulted many people with something along the lines of:

“…Stanley met another boy, and when they locked eyes, they hugged, and kissed. (He paused here waiting for the two actors to kiss, which never happened BTW.) Eventually, one of them was catching, and one of them was pitching, and they had little Timmy.”

Don’t mind that this dumb kid didn’t realize that two men can’t have a child. As soon as he was finished, I raised my hand, looked at him, and said, “I hope that everybody realizes that you should be a little more careful about offending people with your improv. It’s the same if you said something racist or sexist. You offended me personally, and you may have offended a lot of other people in the room.” He then started talking with one of his friends and didn’t listen to me as I continued. My drama teacher then said, “[Insert dumb kid's name here], you aren’t even listening to her, and she’s trying to tell you something important.” He started to listen, “You just need to realize that you could’ve really offended a lot of people, and you need to stop acting so damn homophobic all the time.”

I really don’t like this kid, and I don’t think he knows how stupid he made himself look. What’s even stupider, is that about five minutes into drama class, he asked me why I disliked him so much. I hope he knows why now.

The List

There’s this thing about me. Ever since I was about twelve, I’ve been out. It’s difficult to call myself anything but a lesbian now, but I really believe that labels for sexuality really depend on the person themselves. For example, I call myself a lesbian because I never plan on being with a man ever again because they’re looks just aren’t very appealing to me. Although, a friend of mine calls me a bisexual because although I don’t plan on it, I can still feel emotionally connected to a man. I believe that labels are really just a way to be comfortable because people feel more comfortable when they know what somebody is. So, you can call my sexuality whatever you want but personally, I think I’m a lesbian.

Ever since I broke up with my last boyfriend last February or March, I’ve believed that I’ve lost all interest in boys. They’re all immature, rude, and the masculine love just really isn’t for me. A friend of mine made the point to me a while ago that there’s such a difference between masculine, and feminine love. And that masculine love? Just isn’t for me. The way a man loves a woman is so much different than the way a woman loves a woman. I can’t explain it, I can just feel it. It’s not only that though about men. They all have that thing in between their legs too. And it’s just UGLY.

From time to time, you might hear me say, “He is so hot.” No. It doesn’t mean that I’ve turned straight. It just means that he’s on the list. Ahhh, the list. Yes, it’s something I’ve recently come up with. The list is just a list of people who I’d be with if the opportunity was there and I was single, for many different reasons, really. A good friend of mine named Timguy was the first one to ask me who was on the list of five. I told him. There’s a few people on it whom I know personally, but some of them wouldn’t really like it if I told the world they were on the list.

2. Timguy
Not for any specific reason really, I think it’d just be LOLZ. You know, just to say that I did it. It’d be funny. Let’s face it. I mean, if you knew this guy, you’d DEFINITELY agree with me. We’d be a funny pair. I’ll introduce you one day. He’s awesome though, in every single way.

4. Gerard Butler
C’mon. Those abs. 300. Sexy. I don’t care if you’re a boy, a girl or in between, or gay, straight, or in between that, if you don’t agree with me, you seriously need to figure your stuff out. None of those abs in 300 were CGI’d. And if you know different, don’t tell me please. PLEASE. Gerard Butler, OMG, sexiest man alive. I swear to God.

5. Edward Cullen
Just like, the way he sparkles. It gets me every time. Whenever I’m reading the book, I just wish I was Bella. He’s so beautiful, and incredible. He’s so talented. I can’t even believe how beautiful he is. Everytime I hear about those eyes, it just gets to me. I hear him calling my name, and I can just feel him biting me. NO. I’m totally kidding! I totally got you too. Amy was probably like, “OMG. WHAT?” Hahaha. Hilarious. Did you know that there is over 160 references to Edward Cullen’s beauty in the first Twilight book? That’s over three references per page.

5. Don Draper
Nah. I’m not talking about John Hamm. I mean Don Draper. My biggest dream is to live in the ’50s. And although Don Draper is technically from the ’60s, that doesn’t really bother me because he is one of the most attractive men in the world. Don Draper can do anything. Anything at all. I want to date somebody from the ’50s so bad, and he just seems like the best one. Just think about, he makes TONS of money, he dresses beautifully, he knows how to treat a woman, and he’s GORGEOUS. Like, COME ON. It’s obvious. I’m sure you’d all agree with me.

That’s the list, and no, I’m not telling you who number 1 or 3 is.

OMG. Poll.

First poll on the WordPress.com blog. Poll it up.

How Pathetic, Hey?

There are just times where I miss everything that I used to have, you know? Before life became so complicated. I had a huge group of friends, a boyfriend who I loved and a job that made me tons of money. I was never bored, yet never tired. I was constantly happy, or it seems that way now. I guess, looking back on it, I wasn’t really all that happy all the time. I mean, being lonely has always been something I’ve feared so many that’s why I feel this way now. Perhaps, I’m just lonely. Don’t get me wrong, I have terrific people in my life, some of whom I’m crazy about. But there’s just those days that I wish for somebody to show off, and to love in every single way possible. I want to be able to take somebody with me on the streets, and hold their hand, and kiss their lips and feel, once again, like I’m not alone anymore.
It’s odd though, because there’s times where being with those people, who I want to hold that way, can make me feel like the loneliest person in the world. It’s not their fault of course and I guess I really don’t have anybody to blame but myself, because if it really bothered me all that much, I’d tell them about it. There’s just those days. I’ll be sitting on the couch with somebody I love, and I’ll have their hand in mine or their arms around me, and even if I’m with them at that moment, being loved, and loving them, I feel nothing but loneliness. Maybe it’s fear that it won’t work out in the end, or maybe it’s the fact that I don’t feel like I can give them enough love, the amount of love they deserve, or maybe I don’t feel like I’m being loved the way I need to be.
I look back in my past, and there’s so many things that are different now. I have so many friends who’ve moved away, and don’t really want to come back at all. It’s not that my BFF isn’t amazing, and I absolutely can’t live without her, it’s just there’s times where I wish those people who I’ve lost were back in my life to help me with anything and everything I want do and want to be. I remember the days that school wasn’t anything more than just a hangout with friends. I remember when weekends didn’t mean hangovers and calling in sick to work. I remember when teachers never nagged me for homework that I didn’t do, and I remember when graduating high school was the last thing I was thinking about. I mean, I can’t help but be scared for what’s next to come after high school. Will I meet an incredible girl when I do all my traveling, to wherever I take myself? Or have I already met her? It sounds absolutely ridiculous, and I feel like a little nine year old girl playing wedding with her Barbies, but honestly, sometimes, all I’m thinking about is that beautiful person who I’m going to be with, and how happy I’m going to be when I’m finally not lonely anymore.

HOW PATHETIC, HEY?

Carmelita

When I got off the bus to enter into University Laval this summer in Quebec, I saw three people standing in front of the door looking eager. One of these people was a young man, one of these people was a young woman, and one of these people were Carmelita. She looked at me, with her bright, wide-open eyes, and asked me if somebody in particular was on the bus. I hadn’t recalled hearing the specific name on the bus, and let her know this. She asked me what my name was, and where I was from. When I responded, she seemed more excited than a person should be when hearing the answer to these questions. I asked her what her name was, and she told me that it was Carmelita. I told her it was nice to meet her, and the young woman behind her assured me that her name wasn’t actually Carmelita. But, because I have a rule that I call somebody whatever name they introduce me to as, (just ask my friend Bryan), I called her Carmelita anyways. I hadn’t realized that I had just forced myself to become Carmelita’s “BIFFLE”, as she called it.
BIFFLE is a term I learned from Carmelita. I believe she meant it as BFFL, or best friend for life, but just added the extra vowels to form a word instead of an acronym. She immediately began to refer to me as her new BIFFLE and to be honest with you, I couldn’t stand it and every fifth thing that came out of my mouth was, “Stop calling me that.”
She didn’t talk to me much after that incident for a week or two, but our adventures began around the second week of camp. I don’t quite remember how we became close, but even though I had already made my group of friends, mostly just my BFF from Quebec (BFFQ), she seemed to fit into my Quebec life quite well. Carmelita was different from most people there, and although I had never seemed to get along with teenagers from Newfoundland, she seemed to tickle my fancy more than most. She was loud, she was quirky, she spoke ridiculously fast, and she was obnoxious. But she was also adorable. She constantly invited me to Newfoundland to live with her, to sleep over in her room and have a slumber party, and to go shopping at the mall. She taught me Newfie expressions like “on the go”, and how to have faith of goodness in the entire world. Although she seemed to annoy the heck out of me no matter what, and I constantly told her that “I have a headache” to get her to quit speaking, she was my Carmelita, and she always would be.
I miss her dearly, and I only hope she realizes that this post is for her, and only her.

Carmelita,
I miss you dearly, and never forget how
beautiful you are. Inside, and out.
- Jacqueline