Three weeks ago I told my mom and sister that I was gay. They had both come down to visit me for my birthday. When I tell people that I "came out" to them, they automatically assume that it must have been dramatic or life-changing, but it really wasn't. I didn't expect it to be. I knew that they didn't care and would love me no matter what, which makes me lucky, I guess. I feel privileged, in a way. My family may have its share of issues, but I'm proud to claim what not many other gay people can--love and acceptance from my family.
I haven't told anyone outside my immediate family, but to be honest, I don't really care if they know or not. I mean, if they find out, they find out, but that's not a big concern of mine. I've reached the point in my life where I'm not accountable to anyone but myself and God. I'm the first person in my immediate family to go to college, and only one of a handful out of my gigantic scope of cousins. My parents aren't helping me with tuition or housing or food. In the natural sense of things, I practically forged this path for myself.
But I can't and don't take all the credit, by any means. God is ultimately the reason I'm in college, and furthermore, He's the reason I'm on the path that I'm on. Assuming I was the only governing factor in the succession of events that brought me where I am today would be egotistical.
On the flip side of things, the school year is dwindling down to a mere two weeks: one full week of classes and one week of finals. The more I think about it, the more nervous I get about this summer. I need to find a job, and quickly. I know myself too well... If I procrastinate any longer, summer will be here before I know it and I'll be jobless still. Can't let that happen. I want to find a job waiting tables where I can bank on tips. That's probably my best plan of action.
Stargazing cabaret is tonight. I'm sure everyone will have a good time, since the majority of people will be high out of their minds or drunk off their asses, or both.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Saturday, April 24, 2010
More Than Just A Procession of Song
Last night I saw Hillsong United in concert, and it was amazing. The whole event was pretty amazing, simply because Hillsong has never come to Oklahoma before, at least not Hillsong United. See, Hillsong has different branches across the world, with different worship teams that tour independently. I've seen Hillsong London's worship team twice at Church of the Harvest, but this was the first time I'd ever seen the real deal in person.
I went by myself, which was nice, because I didn't have to worry about keeping up with anyone but myself amidst the crowd of people, especially since my ticket was for the floor. I was standing about twenty feet from the stage and almost hyperventilating. I don't normally get that excited over things, but my few obsessions in life (Hillsong being one of them) can make me insane. I was almost having trouble breathing when the lights went dim and the projector screens began showing video reels of ministry promotions and Hillsong updates. The atmosphere struck me as not just another concert/praise & worship event opener, but something more. I'm sure it had to do with what I was expecting from the concert, "service," itself.... whatever you wanna call it. The roar of the three to four thousand people in the arena was deafening. The myriad of stage lights had already begun their dance. The band was onstage.
Although the first few songs were high-energy and meant to get people out of their shells, few did just that. For a while, I felt like I was the only person doing anything of the praise nature. It wasn't until the band played the first round of down-tempo worship songs that people actually began "getting into it." It sounds cheesy, but deep inside me, I knew without a doubt that God's spirit was going to manifest itself before the night was over. And it did. I remember the exact moment, for me, that I felt God's undeniable presence. Granted, God's presence, to me, is something that can be felt in varying degrees. The feelings range from warm-and-fuzzy to take-your-breath-away to can-barely-stand-another-moment-because-of-the-sheer-weight-and-power-of-God's-presence-pressing-against-your-entire-body. I felt all three throughout the course of the night. The third and final feeling came at a moment I distinctly remember. I could hardly breathe. I was sobbing uncontrollably and fighting with myself to remain on my feet. I felt release in joining the people around me in the rapture of the music and the rhythmic flow of energy pulsating throughout the arena. Three fourths of the way through the concert, everyone was practically drunk in the spirit. It was a frenzy of praise and worship that I hadn't experienced since my church back home.
What I love most about Hillsong is what they bring to the table. Their passion is unmistakable, and what they expect from themselves and their services, concerts, and ministry in general is excellence and life-changing testimonies. I believe that you get what you expect from God. And when people chase after something so elusive as a ground-shaking move of God, with every heart earnestly seeking, it just happens.
I went by myself, which was nice, because I didn't have to worry about keeping up with anyone but myself amidst the crowd of people, especially since my ticket was for the floor. I was standing about twenty feet from the stage and almost hyperventilating. I don't normally get that excited over things, but my few obsessions in life (Hillsong being one of them) can make me insane. I was almost having trouble breathing when the lights went dim and the projector screens began showing video reels of ministry promotions and Hillsong updates. The atmosphere struck me as not just another concert/praise & worship event opener, but something more. I'm sure it had to do with what I was expecting from the concert, "service," itself.... whatever you wanna call it. The roar of the three to four thousand people in the arena was deafening. The myriad of stage lights had already begun their dance. The band was onstage.
Although the first few songs were high-energy and meant to get people out of their shells, few did just that. For a while, I felt like I was the only person doing anything of the praise nature. It wasn't until the band played the first round of down-tempo worship songs that people actually began "getting into it." It sounds cheesy, but deep inside me, I knew without a doubt that God's spirit was going to manifest itself before the night was over. And it did. I remember the exact moment, for me, that I felt God's undeniable presence. Granted, God's presence, to me, is something that can be felt in varying degrees. The feelings range from warm-and-fuzzy to take-your-breath-away to can-barely-stand-another-moment-because-of-the-sheer-weight-and-power-of-God's-presence-pressing-against-your-entire-body. I felt all three throughout the course of the night. The third and final feeling came at a moment I distinctly remember. I could hardly breathe. I was sobbing uncontrollably and fighting with myself to remain on my feet. I felt release in joining the people around me in the rapture of the music and the rhythmic flow of energy pulsating throughout the arena. Three fourths of the way through the concert, everyone was practically drunk in the spirit. It was a frenzy of praise and worship that I hadn't experienced since my church back home.
What I love most about Hillsong is what they bring to the table. Their passion is unmistakable, and what they expect from themselves and their services, concerts, and ministry in general is excellence and life-changing testimonies. I believe that you get what you expect from God. And when people chase after something so elusive as a ground-shaking move of God, with every heart earnestly seeking, it just happens.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Addiction
I wish people would stop running up the stairs in my stairwell. It makes me nervous. Every time I hear that sound, I half-expect someone to come barging into my room, where they would find me laying stomach-down on my bed typing on my computer listening to The Weepies, with Comedy Central on mute.
People are disgusting. I have a hard time making "I would never" statements, but one thing I know for SURE I would never do is let my self-interest affect the well-being of another person. I would never let my addiction consume me to the point that I resorted to violence or degradation of an individual who had nothing to do with my problems. I was looking at the Shared Hope International website today. It's an organization that helps rescue victims of the child sex slave industry and prevent the advancement of sex trafficking. Smut attracts the darkest side of people's desires, and it's frightening what people will do under the guise of anonymity. Trading children for sex is one of the most disgusting manifestations of human self-interest. When someone is so morally vacant that they allow themselves to pimp 14-year-old children to adult men who will have sex with them repeatedly until their digestive organs begin to fail, something is seriously wrong with humanity. The issue is much bigger and more widespread than people think. Here are just a few statistics from CrisisAid.org:
- 1.2 million children are trafficked every year.
- The average age of a traffic victim is 14.
- The average victim is forced to have sex up to 40 times a day.
- Between 14,500 and 17,500 victims are trafficked into the United States each year.
- Sex trafficking is the number one crime worldwide.
Sex is dangerously universal, and it sells everywhere, no matter who you are or where you're from. Everywhere people are looking for a fix. I'd put heroine addicts one rung above buyers of child prostitution on the ladder of human depravity. Sticking a needle in your arm only directly harms the YOU. Of course, it's not even practical to make a "lesser of two evils" statement like that, because all addiction inherently harms someone other than the addict.
In the end, individual conflict between doing what's right and what feels good will never be fully resolved. I think that's a big part of the human experience--finding balance between your own desires and the will to do good for others.
Most people, I think, would be surprised to know just how strong they really are in the fight against their addictions. I'm a firm believer in the notion that, if you can will it, you can do it. I guess you could call it mind over matter. God doesn't give us challenges that we aren't able to overcome in some way. In regards to overcoming the ugliest parts of who we are and denying that which marks the human race as morally corrupt and bankrupt on conscience, Whitney Houston said it best: "I was not built to break... I didn't know my own strength."
People are disgusting. I have a hard time making "I would never" statements, but one thing I know for SURE I would never do is let my self-interest affect the well-being of another person. I would never let my addiction consume me to the point that I resorted to violence or degradation of an individual who had nothing to do with my problems. I was looking at the Shared Hope International website today. It's an organization that helps rescue victims of the child sex slave industry and prevent the advancement of sex trafficking. Smut attracts the darkest side of people's desires, and it's frightening what people will do under the guise of anonymity. Trading children for sex is one of the most disgusting manifestations of human self-interest. When someone is so morally vacant that they allow themselves to pimp 14-year-old children to adult men who will have sex with them repeatedly until their digestive organs begin to fail, something is seriously wrong with humanity. The issue is much bigger and more widespread than people think. Here are just a few statistics from CrisisAid.org:
- 1.2 million children are trafficked every year.
- The average age of a traffic victim is 14.
- The average victim is forced to have sex up to 40 times a day.
- Between 14,500 and 17,500 victims are trafficked into the United States each year.
- Sex trafficking is the number one crime worldwide.
Sex is dangerously universal, and it sells everywhere, no matter who you are or where you're from. Everywhere people are looking for a fix. I'd put heroine addicts one rung above buyers of child prostitution on the ladder of human depravity. Sticking a needle in your arm only directly harms the YOU. Of course, it's not even practical to make a "lesser of two evils" statement like that, because all addiction inherently harms someone other than the addict.
In the end, individual conflict between doing what's right and what feels good will never be fully resolved. I think that's a big part of the human experience--finding balance between your own desires and the will to do good for others.
Most people, I think, would be surprised to know just how strong they really are in the fight against their addictions. I'm a firm believer in the notion that, if you can will it, you can do it. I guess you could call it mind over matter. God doesn't give us challenges that we aren't able to overcome in some way. In regards to overcoming the ugliest parts of who we are and denying that which marks the human race as morally corrupt and bankrupt on conscience, Whitney Houston said it best: "I was not built to break... I didn't know my own strength."
Friday, April 2, 2010
Just One More Button On That Cardigan
I like most people who have April birthdays, or I like to think that I like them. Let me rephrase: I have this strange fantasy in my head that everyone I know with April birthdays would be good friends if we all hung out with each other, even if I've never actually spoken to some of those people. Oddly, I'm only now realizing how ridiculous that statement sounds.
The weather has been so poetically perfect lately. It's that time of the year when daytime may be slightly too warm, but when the sun goes down, the night is just perfect. You can walk around outside in shorts and not freeze, or even be uncomfortable, for that matter. I wait for weather like this to listen to certain music. Some music just sounds better with certain seasons. For example, Bon Iver fits best with winter, in my opinion, whereas The Weepies is perfect for mild sunny days. Spring calls for sounds like Iron & Wine, Ingrid Michaelson, Jason Mraz, Emiliana Torrini, and basically anything with a guitar.
Last night I had two dreams involving burglary and murder. One right after the other. The scenarios were similar in plot to that movie "When A Stranger Calls." Then, I dreamt about one of my friends eating at a restaurant by himself. THEN, I dreamt I met up with a kid from a music program I did last summer and his parents were there. Why did I meet his parents? I half-think that all dreams, or at least the ones you dream consecutively in one night, are related in some way. I bet the reason I saw my friend eating alone was because I had recently talked about that with one of my other friends. Not the friend himself, but eating alone in a restaurant. I can't bring myself to do that. When people play the "Never Have I Ever" game, I should list that as something I've never done, although it's in no way sexual or even interesting. But it's true. And I think more people do that than they let on.
To expound on the area of uninteresting topics, springtime beckons the completion of a litany of unsavory tasks. Grownup tasks. There's nothing I enjoy more than doing taxes and filling out FAFSAs.
Lady Gaga is coming to Oklahoma City this summer, and the ticket prices have exposed my lack of dedication that I regrettably bragged about having. Last time I checked, the cheapest ones were $138. The highest was something ridiculous like $350. I would like to take this opportunity to make it clear that I am NOT that big of a fan. Sorry, Gaga. You inspire and fascinate me, and I love you to pieces, but I can think of much better things to do with that money. Like buy your CDs on iTunes and your weird line of sparkly earphones.
The weather has been so poetically perfect lately. It's that time of the year when daytime may be slightly too warm, but when the sun goes down, the night is just perfect. You can walk around outside in shorts and not freeze, or even be uncomfortable, for that matter. I wait for weather like this to listen to certain music. Some music just sounds better with certain seasons. For example, Bon Iver fits best with winter, in my opinion, whereas The Weepies is perfect for mild sunny days. Spring calls for sounds like Iron & Wine, Ingrid Michaelson, Jason Mraz, Emiliana Torrini, and basically anything with a guitar.
Last night I had two dreams involving burglary and murder. One right after the other. The scenarios were similar in plot to that movie "When A Stranger Calls." Then, I dreamt about one of my friends eating at a restaurant by himself. THEN, I dreamt I met up with a kid from a music program I did last summer and his parents were there. Why did I meet his parents? I half-think that all dreams, or at least the ones you dream consecutively in one night, are related in some way. I bet the reason I saw my friend eating alone was because I had recently talked about that with one of my other friends. Not the friend himself, but eating alone in a restaurant. I can't bring myself to do that. When people play the "Never Have I Ever" game, I should list that as something I've never done, although it's in no way sexual or even interesting. But it's true. And I think more people do that than they let on.
To expound on the area of uninteresting topics, springtime beckons the completion of a litany of unsavory tasks. Grownup tasks. There's nothing I enjoy more than doing taxes and filling out FAFSAs.
Lady Gaga is coming to Oklahoma City this summer, and the ticket prices have exposed my lack of dedication that I regrettably bragged about having. Last time I checked, the cheapest ones were $138. The highest was something ridiculous like $350. I would like to take this opportunity to make it clear that I am NOT that big of a fan. Sorry, Gaga. You inspire and fascinate me, and I love you to pieces, but I can think of much better things to do with that money. Like buy your CDs on iTunes and your weird line of sparkly earphones.
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