The Saga of Me

I remember when I was a kid, Mom used to make us go swimming at the West U pool.  It was the summer I was 10, and I figured I was big enough to go off the high dive.  So I strutted on up there (yes, I strutted, even when I was 10), and got in line to climb up to the top of what to me was an enormously tall diving board.  I felt pretty bad ass climbing up the ladder when my turn came, but when I finally reached the top and looked out over the pool area, I suddenly remembered my rather intense fear of heights.  I froze, wobbling on a board eight feet in the air.  The kids behind me started yelling that I was holding up the line, and the lifeguard blew her whistle at me in annoyance.  I turned around towards the ladder, hoping to climb back down the way I came, but it was too congested by the other kids, none of whom were nearly as terrified of this diving fate as I was.  I was too frightened to notice how silly I looked, pacing in terror between the bars of the diving board.  I was nearly feverish, I was so wrought with fear.  That bad ass mask on the kid who had climbed up that ladder fell away to reveal a chicken shit when faced with coming down.  The kids yelling, that whistle blowing, everyone's eyes seemingly glued on me; the world seemed to spin with chaos.  And then suddenly, I realized that there was only one way out of it.  I walked to the edge of the board, peered down into the water, and as the stringent smell of the chlorine hit my nostrils, I did the only thing I could do: I jumped.  It was probably the most ungraceful dive in the history of the West U pool, and I came up spluttering with water in my nose, but I was off the diving board.  I was free, and safe, and best of all, I had faced my fear and won. 
It happens like that sometimes.  We get ourselves up there on the high dive and can't get down again.  And the only thing that we can do is jump. 

I have been silent for too long.  Not even my personal physical journal, leather-bound and inviting has been graced with the pen in more than a few simple months.  I hear continuously about the years before whatever catalyst erupted into the constant emotional reaping of the last five months.  
To the experiences of those years I have this to say: What tormented secrets do you hold within the womb of a memory that could bind a woman so?  Can you even now not relinquish that hold, when it is obvious to all that it is not love, but something dark and base that is its crux?  I would ask where you come from, O Experience, but the answer to that is all that I am certain of in the ensuing struggle.  And why, O Experience, though you and I never knew each other until now, do you have such strength that you alone are cited when asked as to the source of the her shackles?
And to the bound woman, who has yet to feel the certain discovery of the origin of her nostalgic stagnation, I ask you, are you still so surrendered to your cogito that you truly believe yours is the only hand in the creation of this episode?  I ask, could this indeed be all in your head, when even the wildest legends, myths, and dreams are grounded in fact?  Deny me again, and I shall ask you, if you and your mind are so capable of constructing such emotional desolation, perhaps the time has come for you and your wild perceptions to create and maintain a landscape of safety and happiness.  You and I chanced upon romance, but the love and sisterhood between us has been written for millennia.  I will grant you no play of weakness, should you feel compelled to use that sentiment as the first seed of your new self.  Have you not the strength to cast off your chains, once you discover the manacles unclasped?  Trepidation is a foul and unruly companion, for the only thing it can be trusted for is inaction.  It leads us down no path, but sits with us and holds our hand as the world leaves us behind.  
To that world, whose citizens stare, stupefied as this wrenching saga unfolds before them, I say:  Let none of us leach upon the weaknesses of others, lest we engorge our stolen strength until we burst, for that is the societal law of Nature.  Let that person who would see their chance for action and usurp strength and self-knowledge from one less secure, cause them to cow for their own personal ends and dogma, know this: you and your ways are the source of all that is truly evil in this world.  Indiscretion is something to be forgiven, but to deny a soul freedom is to be guilty of slavery, rape, and murder, for if we are not our own true selves, we are not truly alive.
So to those that would still be guilty, let me say that, were it my place, I would open my soul without pause and drown you with all the conviction in my heart, were you to summon the audacity to stand before me.  However, I am but one heart among the eternal goddesses.  For you, it shall be the very Universe that shall swallow you with Her divine and karmic retribution.  Stand ready, for the Mother awaits you.
And for me, there is courage enough in my soul that I shall never quail from pursuit of this struggle.  Trifle not with me, for my heart is mortal, but my soul is a Warrior, and is indestructible.  I, and my sisters are immortal in our strength and conviction. I am the founding rock of civilizations.  I am a woman.
 

 Standing at the gates of Roselane.  It is either the end or the beginning that is beyond those gates.  Give my regards to Tel-An-Kaa.

*running around in circles, bouncing off the walls, howling at the moon, flying on the ground*  Just crazy for the girl.  I haven't felt like this since I was 16, standing on a hill looking over the valley with the wind in my hair, the reins in my hand, and the smell of cedar in my nostrils.  Bandera Dreaming...ashke personified.  Throw back my head and throw up my hands, lost in the tempest of the calm surrounding me.  Sometimes home isn't a place on the map.  Happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy.....just so damn crazy for the girl.   

So I think I have a problem.  My logic tells me that I should just be alone, and my emotions are driving me crazy, wanting me to be with someone.  Everything was fine when I could meditate in peace.  I could fill that need, or quell it, I'm not sure which.  But lately, it's become this veil of desperation, a sick addiction that I can't seem to shake, though I want more than anything to do just that.

Last night was beautiful.  There was a blue moon and a clear sky.  I stood outside on the plain of the basketball court, the three sides of the building forming a colosseum temple around me, the wind lifting the hair from my face.  Someone had cut back the branches of the cypress tree in the yard, and the fragrace ran wild on the breeze all the way to where I stood in the bright darkness, moon staring down at me.  I stared right back, the wind almost whipping tears from my eyes, the mellow slow groove of Joss Stone on my iPod, asking so much of the Moon, and not even knowing what it was I hoped for, divided as I am.  My love of love, and my love of music came to mind, and I was reminded of something Joss, herself said outside of song. 

"Why am I going through life looking for unconditional love from a human being, when it's music that's unconditional? It's always there for me. It's the love of my life. I've found it."

Music has always helped me with this. But, like Joss, that's my goal.  To love something more than love.  Heh...there's Dar again.  I've become obsessed with either ridding myself completely of the addiction, or fulfilling it permanently.  I just can't figure out which path to take.  Both will hurt for a time.  And that's the problem with addiction, isn't it?  Jonesin' for a woman, get the fuck away from me woman!  

"So when will this circle end?"

So I'm not alone in my room anymore, and that sort of pisses me off because I can no longer meditate in peace.  I'm alone right now, and that makes me happy.  I did get to meditate a little, but I didn't want to get all of my crystals out and have someone walk in while I was in the middle of it, so I just turned on the fountain and listened to meditation music from my recliner.  I'm supposed to be heading to class, but it's raining so hard that frankly, I'm scared to go outside. I'll be late.  I mean, it's so bad that I'm not sure I want to walk the 20 feet to the cafeteria to get breakfast, much less completely across campus.  
So I'm just sitting here in my room with the blinds up, watching the rain, listening to Dar and Patty Griffin.  Funny thing about Dar Williams...I can't stop listening to her.  Really.  There's just something about her voice, or maybe her words.  I've never been this way about just one singer before.  Well, maybe GNR, but that was all an angst thing.
Damn!  The thunder just now was so loud that the blinds shook!  I hope it stops soon. I don't want to miss the entire class!  I think I hear hail.  Hrumph.  I'm supposed to love Nature in all her forms, and I do, but that sure as shit doesn't mean I've got to go out in it.  She can be dangerous sometimes!
Okay, I think it's stopped enough to go to class.  Good!  I'll only be 15 minutes late!  Cheers!

So I'm going through something right now.  Not entirely sure what it is, or why it is, but it's bugging me.  I want to be okay without having a romantic relationship.  I want to be great with just my inner self to love.  I know that's pretty Buddhist, but I think I may have Buddhist leanings anyway, tacked onto the Pagan thing.  
It feels like I am completely solid, with one little empty spot where I would ordinarily put my feelings for...whomever.  I even did a banishing spell for super-hottie accountant, and deleted her number and all that.  If super-hottie accountant was supposed to be in my life, then she can find me.  That felt kind of good, because I burned The List, the spell that I credit that entire liason with.  But something is still missing, and I don't want another relationship to fill that empty spot with.  I just want the emptiness to seal up and go away.  
Those of you who know me, know that I have rarely been without a significant other in my life.  I always get hurt, but that contact is still like a drug.  It's like I can do without the cause, but the effect is still there: that thrice acursed emptiness. Kinda on my right side beneath my rib cage is where I imagine it is physically.   That sounds totally weird, but that's just where I figure it is. 
I don't know why, but when I picture my spirit, I see Lake Somerville.  I want it to be flat and calm like glass, yet full.  And yet, there's this one stupid fish in the middle of the lake (or to the right side, perhaps?) that just keeps breaking the surface and making ripples.  And that's the girl situation.  I totally dig the accountant gal, but right this second, I'd like to concentrate more on my own spirit than another woman's.  If it's meant to be, she'll find me when the time is right, no?  And if that never happens, I'll be just as peaceful.  Meanwhile, there's always music and meditation.....and maybe yoga someday.  ;)    

Wow.  So much time has passed since I even read my LiveJournal, much less wrote in it. I guess I'll catch myself up, since I've got the next two days off of work.  

For starters, Brand_New_Thorn is a crap name for me to have, and if I can figure out how to change with without losing all my previous entries, I will.  

Sooooo...in my last entry, I was probably mumbling and bitching about how horrible my marriage was.  Was?  Yes, was.  I left Rachel.  I left Stephenville, and our beautiful farm.  I left my hopes and dreams of getting a horse.  It's amazing, looking at myself now, and seeing who I am today.  I almost don't recognize myself.  I've had quite a journey these past couple of years.  

Goddess Bless, where do I start?!  Hmmm...maybe I should start with the 'Goddess Bless', because of all the heartaches and triumphs and random goings on since Stephenville, that's probably the most important thing.  Obviously, I've stopped trying to cram myself into the Christian ideal.  (No, I didn't just try to shove Jesus into a skirt.)  Look back at my other entries.  Look at my whole damn life, how I've always connected everything I do with the natural world.  Bandera, the Bend, just sitting out in my yard staring up at the sky when I was a kid.  It's always been a part of me.  And if you take every move I've made in my entire life, it all adds up to one thing: I'ma big raging Pagan.  The second I realized it and admitted it to myself (not that there was any shame), my entire world just went balanced.  I was hiding and I didn't even realize it.  It's the most amazing feeling, to really know yourself and understand that there's a rhyme and reason to everthing you've ever done.  I keep thinking back to my little attempts at rituals with incense, my bag of lucky stones that I carried in my pocket, the talismans I would make for myself, my collection of sacred sticks and dried flowers, all of my little quirky things that I've always done, and the only thing that doesn't sense about it is how come I never realized it before?!  
The nicest thing about it, I think, is that no matter where I go, I always feel home.  The entire time I was trying to be a Christian, I knew it wasn't me.  I just have such peace with life now, and I don't know that anything can ever shake that.  It's really a lot like coming out as queer.  I've always been this way, I just put a name to it.  I could go on all night about how great it feels to have found myself.  I have no more questions about what I believe.  I simply am.  

Of course, these past two years haven't been all white magick and lollipops for me.  I left Rachel by way of her friend Kristy.  Yes, that's right.  Mikki the Pure cheated on her own wife.  Mikki who does not cheat.  I cheated.  And I'm glad I did, because it was the catalyst to a thousand other things that helped to mold me into who I am right now.  I moved away from my beautiful Iron Rose to Dublin where I lived in government housing with my dog, Lucy.  (Who was the best dog in the world, and I miss her terribly to this day.)  I fell madly in love with Kristy, and she with me.  A happy ending? you ask.  Eh...happy for a while.  I moved back home to Houston for the summer where I took Art History and Philosophy at HCC.  Kristy and I talked about getting married and kids and all that nice stuff, just one year after I married Rachel.  (Which I've just realized was 2 years ago today.  Which means that as of next week, it will 2 years since the Stephenville debacle began.)  This is so weird.  It feels like I've been on a specific journey since then, looking back at all that's happened.  Lol...I took my bloodstone off.  I'm feeling emotions more vividly now, right in my gut.  

I live in Arlington now.  I go to UTA.  Kristy and I didn't work out.  She couldn't tell her parents that she's gay, and even though we broke up back in October, it was only a couple of days ago that we finally made the decision to end our relationship entirely.  Yeah, I'm a little sad, but there's so much more to life than just finding someone to spend it with!  (Mikki two years ago would have NEVER believed that, would she?) *chuckle*  Maybe this is growing up? I do have a little crush on an accountant-type who I think I spelled into existance with one of those Lover Wish List spells my mom taught me to cast.  But, I cast the spell before I was really ready to get out there with the relationship stuff again, so either I'm not going to go for it at all, or I will when the time is right.  I'm not even sure if she would reciprocate or not.  Either way, I promised myself that I would not begin another romantic endeavor until I can look at my life and say that my lack of relationship leaves no empty space in me, that I am complete, though unattached.  I'm almost there, but right now, I don't want anyone. I'm so happy to know who I am without any girlfriend influencing me.  Meditation is really a lot better than sex, anyway.

There's so much more to tell, but it's really all archaeology stuff.  (I gave in to the archaeology thing a while ago, too, which surprised no one.)  Anyway, it's all stuff about some scratches on a rock over in Oman and our significance in the scheme of the cycles of the Earth.  I also have some wonderful friends who have helped me get through all of this soul-searching, and I think I may never forget the value of their friendship, no matter where I end up in years to come.  

Life is so good right now.  Some people give their lives to find the kind of peace I have within me.  I just want to throw out my arms and send out all my energy in thanks to every living thing from the bedrock to the farthest star.  I forgot that I could feel like this.  There's no drama.  None.  And when there is, it doesn't touch me.  I am solid.  I am unshakeable.  And baby, I'm me.  Blessed Be, Veysha Kavr'ashke kitto kresh'lan shallan.  Bandera Dreaming.  Who knew this is what it was all about?         

I don't know if you still read this. Would it make things any different if I said it was you that I had this crush on way back in the day? But, yeah, it's true. I didn't know that you two were doing this whole clandestine relationship thing, and I thought you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and your whole thing with Jenn was going to crap, and I thought I could save you from that and show you that there are people out there who can love you the right way. (Didn't know you'd already found one.) I wrote you a song. I was up in D's room, and we were going over it together, and she asked who I wrote it for, and so I told her. And that's of course when I found out that the two of you were together. So I threw the song away, and put that torrid little crush of mine to bed. End of story. I can't believe you never knew. Don't tell D that I told you, okay? And please don't get all weird on me.

I guess I'm happy today. Still no job, still no water. But I'm getting happy because I've still got good music. At least I'm not in the hospital this week! I really miss all my friends. We went to Ft. Worth this weekend, to Rachel's dad's new bar. You know, it's really bad ass when your father-in-law is the owner of the bar. And all the old biker guys who hang out there know you, and treat you like you're one of them. (Which I guess I kind of am...minus the bike!) It was just so awesome to walk up to the bar and get as many shots and whatever else I wanted, and not have to pay for it. Then Charles threw some bad guys out of the bar. It was awesome! And the band there was f-ing sweet!
Yesterday morning, one of the cats climbed up on the very top shelf in the laundry room and broke Rachel's grandmother's cream pitcher. But no, we can't get rid of the cats! It was MY fault for putting it up there! So I glued it back together, but it looks like crap. I hate cats! Our three just don't get the whole litter box concept. They shit everywhere but! And I get to be the one to clean it up! Of course Rachel doesn't have to! Her job is to do the dishes! (Which haven't been done in two months, because we don't have water.) I think she should have to clean a little shit until we get water.
Seriously, the water situation is starting to get REALLY gross! Don't read further if you get grossed out, but I want to remember how things are when there is no money or water! Every day, I have to take a bunch of quarters and go fill as many gallon jugs as I can with water at HEB. We only flush the toilet once a day. (Sick as hell, isn't it? Well, I wish I had a choice! >:( We only go #1...if it's gotta be #2, we've got to drive 5 miles to the Chevron up the highway.) Ideally, it should only take 3 gallons to flush completely, but Rachel has to use half a goddamn roll of toilet paper to wipe, so it backs up a lot. So then I have to use the plunger and do it all over again. (Rachel never does this part, either!) Just now, I went through 9 gallons, and it still isn't flushed all the way! I'm out of water!
Rachel keeps bitching that I never do anything around here. She's apparently under the impression that she's the one flushing her own waste, chopping the wood for the stove, hauling all that water back from HEB, and cleaning up after her STUPID FUCKING CATS! She's the one who never does anything, and then she has the nerve to make me feel like I'M the one slacking! I appreciate that she wants so badly to "take care" of me, but she totally ignores the things I do around here, just because it isn't exactly what she wants done. Well, Rachel, you don't own me! Taking care of someone means more than just buying them a little food and hogging 3/4 of the bed all night. Half the time, I end up sleeping on the couch, because it's roomier than sleeping with her! And Jesus! Does that woman ever snore! Ooh...why am I always so grouchy? It must be something in my past that I haven't come to terms with. No! I CAN'T SLEEP BECAUSE THE HUMAN BUZZSAW IS JUST TOO FUCKING LOUD! This whole thing is just total bullshit. I didn't say anything about being her maid for life in my vows. UGH!

It's really starting to suck out here in Stephenville. Our water pump broke, so we have no running water. I quit Schreiber (which is a good thing), and now I'm out of money (which is a bad thing). I miss my old life. Being married sucks. I don't think Rachel even cares anymore. I could leave and she wouldn't even notice. I want to go home. I never get to ride or anything. There is nothing to love about this place.

Ha! The only reason I actually have time to write in this thing is because I'm sick. Lord only knows what I have, some kind of virus, but the doctor wants me to stay home for a while! Thank God! I needed a break! Our water pump is broken, so we can't flush the toilets, take showers, so dishes, all that stuff. It looks like it's about to rain. We're getting rid of Colby. He really doesn't mesh with the family anymore. His poop really stinks, too, and try as we might, we can't get him to go anywhere except behind the stove. Everyone on my end made it through the hurricanes okay. Mom and Dad went up to Dallas, and then left as soon as I was going to come see them. That pissed me off. So, we went to Arlington to see Rachel's friend Gary, and I got drunk because I haven't been able to drink in months. I want to quit Schreiber so badly. Or at least quit working overnights. No, I think I want to quit Schreiber. It's great money, but it's just not bloody worth it! It's because of that job that I'm so sick now! I'd like time to go to school, you know? So here is my plan: In a few months time, they will be opening a Starbucks here in archaic little Stephenville. When that happens, it will be SEE YA for Schreiber. Hopefully, I will be able to take a large enough chunk out of my debt to validate taking almost a 50% pay cut, but at any rate, I've had it with the cheese plant.

I got a trailer, I got a trailer! Rachel got it for me. Its aluminum, too! I'm not really sure I have time to be writing in this. I've got a Chem test on Friday. I've been working 60-hour weeks, and barely make it to class. (Okay, sometimes, I don't, but I'm not giving up!) Rach also bought a new TV, DVD player, and entertainment center. She's almost entirely debt free now. I wish I was. I don't even know who all is asking me for money! I don't like it at all. I need to get it all taken care of before I buy a horse. I wish I could write more, but I'm sleepy, and I have to go figure out how to use the new DVR we got with the satellite. Toodles.

I feel like it's been a year since I put anything down in here! A lot has happened. I actually was able to bid out of my stupid job, watching cheese go by on a conveyor belt. Now I'm a Hayssen Operator, basically at the controls of the entire 2-lb shred line. I make oodles of money. The folk that I work with are questionable, but I think I'm handling them well. So I work all night and go to school during the day. I like school. Well, except for homework, and my Tech Writing prof. He's an a-hole to the extreme. I love my equine prof though. I think she might be gay. I'm really ready to get my degree. Totally don't want to work at Schreiber the rest of my life. I'm ready to go to Bandera and settle down. Anyway, I guess I don't really feel like writing much else. Life here is a little routine, and boring, but I really don't mind all that much. Just another brick in the road to my big breeding farm!

Rachel and I are in a coffee house right now. Cool, huh? I let her read my last entry. She thought it was hilarious. It's been really nice the past few weeks. I think I'm finally actually in love with my wife. And it feels so good. There might be another QA position opening at work. I pray to G-d I get it. I can't keep doing what I'm doing and not go completely crazy.
Not much to report, otherwise. We bombed the house for fleas, so we're stuck outside for a while. Rachel wants to start a gay church in our house. I think it's a great idea, except that most of the folk out here are really anti-queer, and I'm scared of what might happen to our happy home if they find something like that going on there. I'm pretty sure the KKK is still active in old S'ville. Lots of the gravestones in the cemeteries around here have Confederate flags stuck in the ground next to them. But it's be wonderful if we could keep it secret. I love Rach so much. I always knew I did, but I really feel it now.
Okay, we have to go home now. Toodles!

I am so ready for life to pick up some more speed. I want to get my degree over with. I want to be financially secure. Everyone thinks that gay folk are rich because we have no kids (not true). I'm not rich, financially speaking anyway. I've got wealth beyond my wildest dreams otherwise. I live in the Hill Country, though not Bandera; I have the perfect saddle, but no horse; 7 mouths under the age of 3 to feed, but no children; and a gorgeous wife who loves me more than anything, but just doesn't really know how to show it. I'm not complaining. I feel like the luckiest woman alive. All of the little parts of my life are lacking something, but the point is, they are parts of my life. A start to my dreams. The groundwork for everything I've ever wanted to be mine. But I'm young, and I'm impatient. I want to wake up in a beautiful log house (with a western ranch motif inside) next to Rachel because our kids came and bounced on our bed, go outside to my pretty red barn and feed the animals, have a nice family breakfast (I'm might be a lesbian, but I can still be a Cleaver), work with the horses for a while, take my kids out riding the fences, with a stop by the stock pond to go fishing, come home and take care of evening feed, take a shower, eat a nice healthy and tasty dinner (it's so cool how our kids were born loving vegetables!), sit in my cedar rocking chairs with Rach and watch the sun go down, tag-team our kids into their baths, sing or read them to sleep, and then...well we all know what our parents did once we were asleep. It seems like it would be so easy to get, and so real in my head, I sometimes have to stop and remind myself that I haven't quite gotten there yet. I have to work on my temper before I have kids. I think I might have accidentally given Luke brain damage today. Not that he's got much of a brain to damage. We let Chewy outside because he's happier out there, and after dark, I went outside to fix the a/c unit. Chewy came up and Luke started chasing him, and growling and barking, and acting very hostile. I couldn't get between them in time, so I threw my roll of duct tape at his feet, attempting to trip him up so that I'd have a chance to rescue little Chewy. But I threw a little too hard, and not such a great aim in the dark, and I hit him square between the eyes. He yelped and fell over like I had shot him. Granted, he is a big drama queen, but I think he was actually knocked out for a second. I felt really bad, but he's fine now, and he hasn't gone near Chewy since then. I told Rachel (and I don't think she thinks that I'd do this, but I would without hesitation) that if either of the dogs killed another animal on the farm (meaning pets, not rats or turkeys, or snakes) I would go straight over to the Golightly's place, borrow one of their guns, and shoot the dog. Might sound a little cruel, but a taste for killing is something that you can't train a dog out of, and we're eventually going to have foals, calves, and chickens, either out here, or at the real Iron Rose when we move to Bandera. I can't have a dog hurting my stock. PETA would probably shit, but they don't know what they're talking about, and they certainly don't know anything about farming. They think rodeos are inhumane, that you shouldn't rope steers. If you assume that a bovine body is just like a human body, then yeah, it might be bad, but it's a COW. It won't be hurt by a rope around it's neck. It doesn't even feel anything except a little pressure on it's windpipe, and not enough to hurt it. Sorry. PETA people make me really sick. They're like the people who protest against homosexuality in the bible; none of them have actually done their homework. Someone just told them it was wrong, and they were stupid enough to believe them, and insecure enough that they felt they had to protest it. I know everyone has a right to their own opinion, but at least base your opinion on FACTS. And for the record, I would really love to know how the bible has said since the beggining that it's wrong to be gay, when the word 'homosexual' has been around for less than 100 years. I don't see how logical people can possibly take the modern bible seriously. Even if it was handed down from the Lord G-d, YHWH Himself to my people (yeah, that's right. It was the JEWS that started it...the Jews that love their gay kids, no matter what!), He only gave us one copy! It's been reproduced millions of times since then. Think of when you played 'Operator' when you were a kid. Someone whispers a message into someone's ear, and that kid whispers what they think they heard in the next kid's ear, and you go around in a circle, and the last person has to come as close as they can to saying what the original message was. Now think back to when you played that game. Was the final message ever even CLOSE to the original?! No. Plus, when the original Hebrew Bible was written, they didn't use vowels or punctuation. (Note YHWH above...that's the Original Hebrew way of writing "Yahweh", the first Hebrew name for G-d. No vowels.) So let's try something fun. In English, let's write out this Scripture, this so-called "proof" that homosexuality is wrong. But let us do it without adding vowels, spaces, or punctuation, as the original composers of the Pentateuch would have done. For those of you kiddies who want to follow along, I'm in the New International Version (the exact copy my G-d-fearing lesbian wife gave me for Christmas, even), Leviticus 18:22. Here's what you get:
"Dntlwthmnsnlswthwmnthtsdtstbl" Oh wait, maybe I was wrong. Because CLEARLY that says that homosexuality is an abomination! (I can be sarcastic. I'm from one of the original 12 tribes. G-d is my family's homeboy.) Other than not being in Hebrew, that's exactly what it would have looked like in the copies of the Bible that predate the Septuigent. (That's another bit of history that totally f's with the validity of the modern bible. 70 different scholars, each translating a piece of the Hebrew Bible into Greek. I see no cause for concern. I'm sure the two languages were identical.) I feel so much better now that I know our country's president is founding his policies off a book based on this gibberish. Yes, G-d may have written the Bible. But we, His Creations, are bumbling morons. If all these Christian zealots would concentrate on Scriptures like 1 Corinthians 13:4-13, the world might be a better place for everyone, not just the queers. But when we voice our own opinions, show them our genetic, proof of homosexuality, ask them how they can condemn us, they are too quick to use their tired rhetoric. "Matthew 7:1 'Judge not, lest ye be judged.'" Well, 'homosexual' might be a relatively new word, but the term, 'hypocrisy' has been around since Creation. Allow me to quote from the NIV, 1 Timothy 4:1-5. "1 The Spirit clearly says that in later times some will abandon the faith and follow deceiving spirits and things taught by demons. 2 Such teachings come through hypocritical liars, whose consciences have been seared as with a hot iron. 3 They FORBID PEOPLE TO MARRY and order them to abstain from certain foods which G-D created to received with thanksgiving by those who believe and know the truth. 4 For EVERYTHING G-D CREATED IS GOOD AND NOTHING IS TO BE REJECTED if it is received with thanksgiving 5 because it is consecreated by the word of G-D and prayer." We have so much to gain, but so much more to lose. Okay, I'm done. If I could take out the sarcasm, I could write a book tonight. But I'm sleepy and I want to go say my prayers and get in bed with my wife.

I miss Houston sometimes. At least there, I knew what was going on. I had friends and food and money. And even though I knew there were people who hated gay folk, I wasn't worried that someone might actually hurt me! The people in this town are just redneck retards. This guy that I work with (and I don't know how we got on the subject, because he thinks that I'm straight), actually told me that he'd like to lock all the queers in the world in a room and bomb it. Then he said that, as a biology major, you can't tell him that it's genetic. Because being halfway through a bio degree at Tarleton when you're 33 makes you the leading expert on genetics. He's an asshole. He asked me if I wanted to come over because his girlfriend is out of town. So, I found out that I hate the people of Stephenville. Really, I can't wait to move to Bandera. At least I know there is a thriving lesbian population there, and many of the other folks "just love lesbians!". At least that's what the lady in the general store told me very loudly when I was there with Liz. I can't wait for school to start. I need something to do besides play stupid Rocket Mania or sleep when I'm not working. Oh yeah, and why doesn't anyone ever leave comments on my entries? No one reads them, that's why. I really want things to pick up. I'm working now, so there should be money. I'm waiting to get my horse. I don't have to, but with all the debt I've gotten, it would be the wise and mature thing, and really, better for the horse. Rachel got a job at Erath Excels! as a teacher's aide. Whoopie. It's funny, but the less money we have, the more I find myself just hating her. Not a great marriage, is it? Anyway, I have to go. I have to go pick up another HEB card so Mom can get me enough money to buy food until Thursday. Life really sucks sometimes.