I apologize for no column last month. I was quite busy.
On the fifteenth, I was graced with my fourteenth birthday. I had all of my friends over for a party at my family's beach house.
Last month, my school did our production of FAME. Since I'm one of the few freshman in the play, I wasn't given much respect...I was one of the background dancers. I must admit, I was pretty cool, though. We had four sold out shows, and got a standing ovation at each one. OK, that's enough of the corny stuff, I also have a rant. (Yay! you all get to hear Lauren bitch about something new!)
Here's my problem, I've been out for about six months, and like almost any gay teen, I go on my little dyke splurges. You all know what I'm talking about. A flannel shirt, Ani DiFranco CD, and assorted queer jewelry.
One of my teachers came up to me the other day and asked me if I could "tone it down with the gay thing." I feel really bothered by this because I hate to hide who I am not for the safety of myself, but for the comfort of others.
I know that I may sound incredibly stupid to you, but you must understand that I live in Slower Lower Delaware. More importantly, I live in eastern Sussex County, as Kristen (One of the former writers on here, and one of my friends) says, it is the 'Sacred border between the chickens and the beaches.' They call Reho a 'gay town.' I couldn't imagine living anywhere else.
I think that I'll stop by Lambda Rising later tonight.