imwithjonas's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It's What I Do It's What I DoWell, this is one of those nights when I'm not sure what's about to happen, but I have to let it run its course. Apparently I've spent too long not writing anything, and now I have this uncontrollable urge to spill out my very soul in overblown prose. Ah, the joys of thinking you're a writer. If you’ve read much of my journal, then you probably realize that I’m pretty wishy-washy. I have a vaguely disconcerting propensity for conforming to the standards of the circles I run in (perhaps "the circles I slowly amble in" would be more accurate). Depending on what kind of mood I’m in, I’m either highly impressionable or fangoriously easily manipulated. I’m generally a follower. The thing is, being a follower sometimes puts you in a position to lead. I put a lot more stock in some of the things I’ve followed in life than others. Looking back, I don’t think I was ever as devoutly religious as I tricked everyone (myself included) into thinking I was. I just wanted to believe in the same thing all the other kids at school did. I also never really liked Metallica. I just wanted a boy to want to fuck me. But even this trash that I didn’t really believe instilled some little bit of decency in me. So God wasn’t my cup of tea. I did discover that I believe in basic morality based on respect of others, and that I’m intelligent enough to quit a good thing when it turns out to be bad for me. The Metallica thing doesn’t have an upside, except that the boy never did want to fuck me. I hope. Ew. Let’s just say I’ve made a few mistakes in my life. I’ve been presented with an interesting situation. I followed my friend wherever he told me, like the sweet suggestible girl that I am. That’s done a couple things for me. First, I’m writing this. Largely due to friendy, I figured out that if I enjoy writing, and am occasionally good at writing, perhaps I should write. And second, I woke up and realized that not only do gay people exist outside of telly, but I actually care about what happens to them. That might seem a bit blunt, but that’s truly what happened. I’m not only a member but an officer of the Gay-Straight Alliance. I’m suddenly an advocate, an activist even (when I’m feeling particularly active). Now I’m in the middle of something I actually believe in. Apparently when you believe something vastly different than what the majority of the people surrounding you believe, you become an example. I was actually taught that all the time back in my Mormon days. The basic principle is that I’m different now. I stand out, so people will pay attention to me. We were always told to teach by example. I’m sure I wasn’t a very good Mormon in that respect. The church doesn’t generally support prim young ladies pronouncing such curses as to call the wrath of God down upon them. Ah, the wrath of God. Good times, good times. Sorry. I was getting to a point. I’m technically not much of a role model just yet. I’m mostly innocuous, and largely ignored. In a couple weeks, I imagine that will change slightly. See, when I’m my gay best friend and I are skipping across campus, arms linked, in our matching GSA t-shirts with pretty rainbow flags, I’ll probably stand out just a bit. When I’m sitting at a table doing everything I can to get people to pay some fucking attention for a change, maybe someone will notice. I have a chance to make a difference. I have a chance to be a leader for once. Maybe all that sounds trite and at least a little pretentious, but it’s important to me. I’ve spent a good deal of my life attempting to be invisible. I’ve done everything I can to avoid calling attention to myself because I never wanted anyone to notice me. I tend to think that I’m mostly unremarkable and entirely unattractive and generally not a pleasant public figure. I’m not going to lie and say that I quit thinking all that, because I haven’t. I just realized I don’t care nearly as much as I used to. I’m going to make people pay attention to me, not because I want attention, but because I have an actual purpose that requires attention. I feel like I’m doing something beyond myself, and just maybe if I do it right, I’ll do some good. Pretentious. Grandiose. Overblown. It might be trash, but it sure as hell feels good to write it. 11:01 p.m. - April 06, 2004 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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