"When Virginia state high school tennis champ Michael Drougas decided to come out to his Salem High School on Twitter two weeks ago, he was nervous. He and Salem High reside in conservative western Virginia. He figured there was a pretty good chance the reaction wouldn't be so great."
Here's his very inspiring story in Outsports:
I had an alternate version of the dream from #9. This time, instead of being friends with this guy, I met him and he was a complete asshole and I pretty much wanted to kill him, he was that mean. I can't remember any specifics, but now whenever I look at him I simultaneously get angry and sad because of how mean he was to me in that dream.
I think the dream might have been a misplaced personality of someone I really hate who everyone else I know loves for some reason. That person thankfully wasn't at school today, which made the day much more enjoyable.
A point where I almost saw a blur between friendship and something more.
Ugh, wish I had more time to write. :-\
So I was watching a movie to-day (specifically it was a pornograpic movie because why the fuck not) and I started wondering about why the things that are are the things that are, yea?
Jack Andraka… his earned accolades abound! If unaware, do a Google. Even the pope is impressed:
* inspired by the character, Thomas, in Downton Abbey.
There are no ghosts in
your winter-clothed heart
but real monsters claw at
the fleshy, pink walls,
screaming insults that
reach your ears
all the way from inside.
your mind is a damaged
ten years ago,
some mean private schoolboys
threw a stone
through the rainbow-lace glass.
And maybe your lips are bruised
who never bothered staying
leaving you alone to burn
your fingers against
a vanilla candle flame.
Thomas, your green
eyes were blinded
*inspired by this quote: "Love exists in powder. Love exists in pills. We are all addicts."- Pete Wentz, Gray
I used to fall asleep to the crunching
sound of riots in the alleys
outside my window
when I was a child.
But boy, you never had that luxury.
While I was always
searching for secret passageways
and trap doors under floorboards
and between sweaty cobblestones,
you never even tried to touch
the delicate shadows up in
the attic back home.
But there's something about
your perfectly tailored self
that still gets under my skin,
making me want to find all
Today's date is so fun to write.
I think I'll start with smaller stuff and get to the meat of this journal later (P.S: the meat involves relationship-esque things). Ummm I fucking love college, in case that wasn't abundantly clear already. I've learned more in one term of college than I have in one year of high school, and that's really not an exaggeration. I mean, it really isn't even worth it to compare high school and college. To do so would be like comparing Stephanie Meyer and Shakespeare.
I was in a bad mood on Friday at lunch so I expored behind the football field, in the practice area. That place always inspires me. It's even better when alone and while listening to Oneohtrix Point Never's ambient music. I took plenty of photos but they don't inspire nearly as much as actually being there. It's surprising how beautiful the area behind such a dull and uninspiring place can be.
Schools always seem like such a strange community to me, especially such a gigantic high school that I am forced into.
Anyway, hanging outside alone during lunch is the best thing ever.
This is a very disturbing, but very important, 55-minute assessment (BBC: The Documentary) of the current status of LGBTs on Jamaica. Please listen… Just "click" on Listen now 55 mins
Here is the BBC's introduction to the program:
Tomorrow, Sunday, December 10, the 3rd anniversary of Tyler Clementi's leap to his death from the NJ-NY George Washington Bridge will be commemorated in this very special tribute:
Dublin stars play tag between
Rowan leaves as the plastic
party lights in my room
match their sad glow.
And my dreams are
made of notebook paper,
Adam, cigarette burns
and broken frames of
your stained-berry smile,
glistening with last summer's dewdrops.
I have your favorite pocketknife
stashed away in my closet
under a pile of old wool sweaters
and yearbook photos that
our folks never saw.
the carved symbols we left
on that park bench
and the crayon marks, also?
I suppose they're still there,
though I haven't gone to check
Today was my birthday. It was the best birthday I've ever had, even though I have a macroeconomics test tomorrow morning, so I have to study some more tonight. I'm actually in the library right now, but I'm taking a break because this guy across the room keeps coughing annoyingly. I know he can't help it, but it's the exact same hacking cough, over and over, like every 30 seconds on the dot. I got so many presents in the mail from my mom that I had to make two trips to the mail room. So much candy and some boots and some nice clothes that I still need to try on. I haven't gotten that many presents since I was in elementary school and still having those birthday parties where you invite your whole class.
I had no idea how blind I used to be, not in the sense of sight though. The more I think about it, there's a real issue here (where I live) that no one's talking about, or maybe aren't aware of. Whenever I'm riding the metro to get to my college I see the houses that are passed. Old, worn, decaying, peeling and decrepit, and yet they're occupied.