I went to one of those schools which, unbeknown to me, was where a lot of the gay kids went because it had a reputation of being respectful and accepting. I had a reasonable number of friends confide in me that they were gay during college, many of whom had not yet told their parents. No matter how many times I give this speech, I still feel like I never deliver it right in person, so I felt like maybe it was worth writing up, both for other people who don't know what to say and for me. Maybe the next time I give it I'll say it right.
Not being heterosexual isn't a big deal, and yet it is. It isn't a big deal because I don't care what your sexual orientation is, I just want you to be happy. I care deeply about my friends and want all of them to be as happy as possible. At the same time, half the time when people tell me this its through tears, or I can see how long and difficult a struggle this was to come to grips with. I can see the fear of rejection, and admire the bravery of acknowledging that not all people will accept you for who you are, but that you will be who you are anyway. That courage is rare and beautiful, and never something I would want to ignore in anybody.
The conversation always comes around to "how do I tell everybody?" and I always botch this by responding over-briefly with "you don't have to if you don't want to. I never felt the compulsion to tell the world I'm straight, and you don't need to run around explaining your sexual preferences to anybody just because they aren't the same as mine."
It's a true fact, but I'm not saying you should stay in the closet. What I'm actually trying to say is "You do not owe the world an explanation for who you are." You never have, and you never will. As long as you're not hurting anybody, you need to do whatever you need to do to live a happy life, and the rest of the world can go screw itself. You don't owe them anything.
When it comes down to it, I couldn't care less about your sexual orientation: you are my friend and that's what's important. Your sexual orientation is about the same to me as your chosen career, or what set of talents you were born with. It doesn't really change what I think of you. What makes this important to me is that it is important to you. I want to be supportive and help you find all the things in your life you need to be happy. I really truly want you to be happy.
So please, if you want a coming out party you'd better believe I'll be there. I'll do whatever you need: wear a cheesy shirt, run around in a pride parade, help you pick up dudes or chicks or whatever you want. I'll stand next to you if you tell people, or we can giggle as we walk home after parties because none of those incredibly dense people there realized that the guy you came with was your boyfriend. This is just like everything else: you tell me what you need, and I will be there. I just want you to be happy, because I love you.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Eye of the Beholder
(This post should be safe for work, but it probably isn't)
Surely a little late to the party, but I finally ran into Kate Perry's video of running around with Elmo on Sesame Street and the surrounding controversy about the appropriateness of her attire and the sexuality of the entire deal. In case you feel a need to examine Katy Perry's controversial cleavage personally, I've included the video.
Some people might argue that children will take this as overly sexual, and that it isn't appropriate for them. This is all I have to say
Depending on how your mind works, you will see either a couple holding one another or nine dolphins which are not all the same size. Take a moment, and find both in the image.
This piece is called "Message d'amour des dauphins" (A message of love from the dolphins in English) by Sandro Del-Prête. Born in 1937, this man is a fairly underrated artist who is still alive and kicking ass, but that's a rant for another day. The point is that he routinely makes illusion images with a second, more adult meaning in them, such as Life in the Rose (1990).
This one is far more direct in displaying both images.
Now, I'm sure you're all quite capable of finding pictures of naked people on the internet, so why is this relevant?
Large amounts of anecdotal evidence (I was pretty upset to spend an hour on the internet and not find a single legitimate study) say that when children look at these paintings (particularly the dolphin/couple one) they see only the dolphins.
This tendency of adults to make things horrible when kids don't care is a well explored phenomenon at such credible research institutes as 4chan. Lazytown is one of their favourite targets.
But, when it all boils down what we're basically looking at is a glorified version of a Rorscharach or ink-blot test. If you haven't ever looked through the 10 "traditional" cards on wikipedia its a good laugh, although I have no idea what a doctor would make of me finding Cthulhu, the sword in the stone, human vertebrae, jellyfish polyps, rabbits and the Eiffel Tower in there.
The point is, we see what we want to see, and if your 5 year old kid looks at these things and can't imagine anything but sex, maybe you should thank Sesame Street for alerting you to a problem and get your kid to a doctor.
Surely a little late to the party, but I finally ran into Kate Perry's video of running around with Elmo on Sesame Street and the surrounding controversy about the appropriateness of her attire and the sexuality of the entire deal. In case you feel a need to examine Katy Perry's controversial cleavage personally, I've included the video.
Some people might argue that children will take this as overly sexual, and that it isn't appropriate for them. This is all I have to say
Depending on how your mind works, you will see either a couple holding one another or nine dolphins which are not all the same size. Take a moment, and find both in the image.
This piece is called "Message d'amour des dauphins" (A message of love from the dolphins in English) by Sandro Del-Prête. Born in 1937, this man is a fairly underrated artist who is still alive and kicking ass, but that's a rant for another day. The point is that he routinely makes illusion images with a second, more adult meaning in them, such as Life in the Rose (1990).
This one is far more direct in displaying both images.Now, I'm sure you're all quite capable of finding pictures of naked people on the internet, so why is this relevant?
Large amounts of anecdotal evidence (I was pretty upset to spend an hour on the internet and not find a single legitimate study) say that when children look at these paintings (particularly the dolphin/couple one) they see only the dolphins.
This tendency of adults to make things horrible when kids don't care is a well explored phenomenon at such credible research institutes as 4chan. Lazytown is one of their favourite targets.
But, when it all boils down what we're basically looking at is a glorified version of a Rorscharach or ink-blot test. If you haven't ever looked through the 10 "traditional" cards on wikipedia its a good laugh, although I have no idea what a doctor would make of me finding Cthulhu, the sword in the stone, human vertebrae, jellyfish polyps, rabbits and the Eiffel Tower in there.
The point is, we see what we want to see, and if your 5 year old kid looks at these things and can't imagine anything but sex, maybe you should thank Sesame Street for alerting you to a problem and get your kid to a doctor.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Getting Lucky
Unshockingly, I wasn't exactly winning at high school. I was socially a disaster, didn't even try at sports, and regularly arguing with teachers to leave me in the advanced classes despite my poor performance and complete inability to turn homework in on time. The honors classes weren't even weighted, so I graduated with a stunning 2.9/4.0 GPA.
Reconnecting with my peers from high school through the internet has been a very sobering experience. I am decidedly in a more favorable bracket of career success compared to my peers than I was in high school. I realized, slowly, that all that really set me apart was an incredible string of good luck which has miraculously lasted about six years.
They tell me I must have had talent in me all along, and a few even claim to be able to have seen it in me when I was young, but they are wrong. I am not a genius.
People write to me from this blog, and tell me I must be the luckiest person in the world to have had all this happen to me in such a short time, but I do not believe in six-year lucky streaks.
I do believe in statistics.
Father Jerry wasn't the greatest college guidance counselor, but he did excel in looking pretty annoyed. "You can't apply to this many universities. It is a waste of your time. You should figure out what you want and apply to a more targeted selection of schools. You realize most students here apply to four schools at maximum."
"I'm paying the application fees all out of pocket."
"Do you realize how many recommendations you are asking your teachers to write?"
I rearranged the files in my hands, "Here, if I cut these, I can do all of them on the common app except for these three. That's the same amount of work for you as four, isn't it?"
He glared.
"I'll bring you stamped and addressed envelopes and everything."
Applying to 11 schools turned be a lot of work for me with all the supplemental essay questions to the common app. Nobody wanted to proofread that many essays, and I had trouble making enough time to finish them all. I spent over 700 dollars on application fees alone, money that comes slowly for a babysitting high-schooler.
That money remains the single greatest financial investment I have ever made in my life. College application systems are too complicated for somebody like me to really predict, especially at 18. I got accepted to what I thought were stretch schools with full rides and rejected from safety schools. I held acceptance letters in front of schools I could not afford, to try to get them to increase their financial aid offers. This safety kept me cool under pressure, even when a scholarship interviewer pulled out my university application and pointed out I had written "National Merit Commended Schollar" under the awards category.
PS: Hell yeah I won that scholarship anyway.
I'm curled up with a laptop on the floor, which must have not been mine because I couldn't afford one at the time. Batman is flipped upside down on the couch with his legs swinging against the back, his face just off the floor near Jace's.
"Ugh, I am tired of writing essays for the Feds."
"How many?"
"37"
"WHAT?"
"I'm applying for 14 internships at this center"
Jace gives me a look which expresses how little pity he has for somebody who set themselves up for this.
"What's this one on?" Batman asked.
"Why... why I want this internship opportunity..."
"Oh," Batman said, "Well... you want the opportunity to fucking learn shit, and what's more important, to learn how to learn some shit, which is a skill you'll need all your life..."
"You're brilliant."
"Nah, I'm drunk"
I removed all the expletives, cleaned up the grammar, and submitted his rant as an essay anyway.
And that was how I came to work for the feds.
Reconnecting with my peers from high school through the internet has been a very sobering experience. I am decidedly in a more favorable bracket of career success compared to my peers than I was in high school. I realized, slowly, that all that really set me apart was an incredible string of good luck which has miraculously lasted about six years.
They tell me I must have had talent in me all along, and a few even claim to be able to have seen it in me when I was young, but they are wrong. I am not a genius.
People write to me from this blog, and tell me I must be the luckiest person in the world to have had all this happen to me in such a short time, but I do not believe in six-year lucky streaks.
I do believe in statistics.
***
Father Jerry wasn't the greatest college guidance counselor, but he did excel in looking pretty annoyed. "You can't apply to this many universities. It is a waste of your time. You should figure out what you want and apply to a more targeted selection of schools. You realize most students here apply to four schools at maximum."
"I'm paying the application fees all out of pocket."
"Do you realize how many recommendations you are asking your teachers to write?"
I rearranged the files in my hands, "Here, if I cut these, I can do all of them on the common app except for these three. That's the same amount of work for you as four, isn't it?"
He glared.
"I'll bring you stamped and addressed envelopes and everything."
Applying to 11 schools turned be a lot of work for me with all the supplemental essay questions to the common app. Nobody wanted to proofread that many essays, and I had trouble making enough time to finish them all. I spent over 700 dollars on application fees alone, money that comes slowly for a babysitting high-schooler.
That money remains the single greatest financial investment I have ever made in my life. College application systems are too complicated for somebody like me to really predict, especially at 18. I got accepted to what I thought were stretch schools with full rides and rejected from safety schools. I held acceptance letters in front of schools I could not afford, to try to get them to increase their financial aid offers. This safety kept me cool under pressure, even when a scholarship interviewer pulled out my university application and pointed out I had written "National Merit Commended Schollar" under the awards category.
PS: Hell yeah I won that scholarship anyway.
***
I'm curled up with a laptop on the floor, which must have not been mine because I couldn't afford one at the time. Batman is flipped upside down on the couch with his legs swinging against the back, his face just off the floor near Jace's.
"Ugh, I am tired of writing essays for the Feds."
"How many?"
"37"
"WHAT?"
"I'm applying for 14 internships at this center"
Jace gives me a look which expresses how little pity he has for somebody who set themselves up for this.
"What's this one on?" Batman asked.
"Why... why I want this internship opportunity..."
"Oh," Batman said, "Well... you want the opportunity to fucking learn shit, and what's more important, to learn how to learn some shit, which is a skill you'll need all your life..."
"You're brilliant."
"Nah, I'm drunk"
I removed all the expletives, cleaned up the grammar, and submitted his rant as an essay anyway.
And that was how I came to work for the feds.
***
My senior year of college I had an interview almost every Friday from January to March. Teachers thought I was just making it up to cut classes. When the school hosted a career fair I would take the afternoon off to walk up and down every single aisle and talk to every interested company, to see if I would be happy there, and to see if they would hire me.
The long and the short of it is that I am not more clever than anybody else: hell, most people can probably put together a better essay than a drunken friend's rant, or at least can spell the name of awards they win. I don't even think I'm luckier than anybody else.
My point is that I play absurd odds, but that I win because I play a lot of times. I was denied from 12 of the 14 internships from that program alone. Most of my peers did not even apply for 12 internships in total, let alone at one center. I was denied from more colleges than most of my high school classmates applied to.
Some people get an idea fixed in their heads, and they keep trying until they succeed. Kudos if it works for them, but I am never sure enough of anything to do it. I just reach out to every good opportunity I see, and see which ones respond back.
Some people keep a bizarre tally of wins and losses. I don't understand this. In five years nobody cares how many colleges you were denied from: they care which one you attended. Your resume doesn't include the jobs you never got, your transcript doesn't include the independent study proposals that got shot down, your checkbook doesn't reflect the scholarships you didn't win, and your boyfriend doesn't care how many boys turned you down for coffee before you met him.
The only person, in the vast majority of cases, who will ever know about your rejections is you. Your story will only be written of the opportunities you won, and what you did with them.
My senior year of college I had an interview almost every Friday from January to March. Teachers thought I was just making it up to cut classes. When the school hosted a career fair I would take the afternoon off to walk up and down every single aisle and talk to every interested company, to see if I would be happy there, and to see if they would hire me.
The long and the short of it is that I am not more clever than anybody else: hell, most people can probably put together a better essay than a drunken friend's rant, or at least can spell the name of awards they win. I don't even think I'm luckier than anybody else.
My point is that I play absurd odds, but that I win because I play a lot of times. I was denied from 12 of the 14 internships from that program alone. Most of my peers did not even apply for 12 internships in total, let alone at one center. I was denied from more colleges than most of my high school classmates applied to.
Some people get an idea fixed in their heads, and they keep trying until they succeed. Kudos if it works for them, but I am never sure enough of anything to do it. I just reach out to every good opportunity I see, and see which ones respond back.
Some people keep a bizarre tally of wins and losses. I don't understand this. In five years nobody cares how many colleges you were denied from: they care which one you attended. Your resume doesn't include the jobs you never got, your transcript doesn't include the independent study proposals that got shot down, your checkbook doesn't reflect the scholarships you didn't win, and your boyfriend doesn't care how many boys turned you down for coffee before you met him.
The only person, in the vast majority of cases, who will ever know about your rejections is you. Your story will only be written of the opportunities you won, and what you did with them.
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