Really though, what is my life? Lately it’s hard to even roll my tiny ass out of bed in the morning, let alone envision a future that’s brighter than the TV and computer screen that I rotate between all day long. Don’t get me wrong, I think I’m rad, fierce the house down, and minimally intelligent and stylish. But when I look at the world it feels like being talented, being passionate, and being dedicated are not enough to get you very far in life. It’s all about who you know, how much money you have, and the names and reputations that you carry with you (like your college/university for example).
Despite this discouraging observation (which is just that, an observation) I’ve come to realize that life is never going to stop slamming doors in my face (nor anyone else’s for that matter), but I can’t keep waiting for doors to open for me. I need to pick up an axe and GO HAM on that door, The Shining style!
I won’t let the bad hold me down. I may not have gone to an ivy league school. I may not have an elite, expansive network in my desired field. I may not have access to mixers and parties in New York. I may not have money to take unpaid internships with invaluable experience. But what I do have is the strength of someone who independently carried himself through four years of college, someone who came out at 16 years old, someone who held his head high and kept going even after getting jumped, and someone who loves without restraint.
I’ve done too much and worked too hard to NOT reach the life I’ve always dreamed of. So to help solidify these dreams in my head (the first step to making them a reality) I’m going to write them below. But before I share my dreams, I want to challenge everyone to post their dreams as well. You don’t have to spill your guts like me, but you should push yourself to not only consciously think about what you want in life, but to see it written down, in front of your face. Post it on Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, or on your own blog, and please please please tag/mention me so I can see your beautiful dreams too! Anywayssss, here are my dreams, enjoy!
- Become a writer/editor for Nylon, because their content goes far beyond brand names and aesthetics. It’s a magazine with a soul, a heart, and most importantly, a smile. Lo amo muchismo!
- Get a cat and a dog. Name them Buffy and Angel respectively.
- Finally start writing the novel I’ve thought about every single day for years.
- Establish a powerful voice in the fields of race, gender, class, sexuality, feminism, and animal rights. Speak up on the issues that matter the most.
- Live in New York City.
- Develop my photography skills so I can tell stories that I can’t always tell with my words. Become as amazing as Jarlos (check out Raat City).
- Work with Anita Sarkeesian at some point in my life, because she is a hero who is without a doubt going down in the history books for her bravery and dedication to combatting sexism. Mind you she has yet to stop, despite endless, frequent, and horrifying threats on her life, and facing various forms of online terrorism.
- Become famous enough to be a guest judge on RuPaul’s Drag Race.
- Be financially comfortable.
- Write a memoir before I get too old and forget everything.
- Stay punk rock forever.
No, I wasn’t actually on LSD. But I get so tired of the bright lights and forced cheery spirits that surround a day that is ultimately nothing more than a consumerist, greedy, and selfish holiday that I just feel like messing up the entire aesthetic, so that it’s more representative of the true nature of Christmas (*takes a breath*). So after a short stroll through a beautifully decked out neighborhood in Baltimore I decided to dirty up my photos and take a little trip (again, for clarification I did not and do not use any drugs and this probably not at all what Christmas would look like on LSD… but just humor me… please?).
The army of colorful lights on every house was slightly overshadowed by the no doubt immense electric bill. And it wasn’t just one or two houses. It was literally every house on the block, except for the one solitary house at the end with a menorah in the window.
Records — the perfect material for making your very own Christmas tree, or recreating the birth of Jesus Christ. You can basically use them for anything.
I had a whole rant planned about peace in this country, but I think it’s best saved for later. For now let’s just stick to counter-culture grumpiness and mocking of Christmas.
My anti-Christmas sentiments fall short here, because I truly adore this archway. I want one for my house, but lord knows I’m not crafty enough or patient enough to actually make it myself.
I have a letter to Santa right here: Please stop delivering presents to little shits and grown up shits that don’t deserve anything at all. We all know we can be little bitches throughout the year and still get gifts on Christmas, so just stop with the naughty or nice bit. You’re not fooling anyone. Do you even have lumps of coal, because I’ve never seen or heard of anyone actually getting one? It seems like a pretty weak scare tactic to me. (I’ll stop now, because I realize I’m a 22 year-old talking to Santa.)
“Oh boy — what a block!” You’re telling me.
America is such an awful place that lately I haven’t felt very compelled to plaster my face all over the place. I mean, who cares what I look like when a modern-day civil rights movement is underway? But maybe that isn’t as important as fabrics strung together into an ensemble around your body, being a basic bitchhhhh who don’t fuxxxx with no one, or (heaven forbid) the mega-consumerist holiday that we call Christmas.
These things, and many more, take center-stage in people’s realities while the very lives of our fellow citizens are on the line. Contrary to popular belief, the civil rights movement did not end with Martin Luther King Jr. Rather, he left the torch for the next generation, and now it’s time for us (inclusive us, because clearly I wouldn’t be the one carrying the torch) to pick it up and carry it the rest of the way. If everyone chips in, shares their thoughts, and more importantly supports those leading the charge, equality might start to look more like a reality than a dream. It’s like when you try to pay a bill with a group — if more people contribute, everyone pays less. But, if only a few people pay, they end of having to pay the most. Herein lies the problem with Americans.
I understand that people have lives. Responsibilities. A desire to relax and escape. But so do the people protesting, and dedicating their time and resources to helping make this country a better place not just for themselves, but for all others in their community. Does the idea of an (institutionally) racially harmonious country not appeal to people? Maybe it’s easier for some to just buy into the propaganda that black people are scary, aggressive, violent, and out of control. More likely it’s because people accept what they’re told, and rarely step a significant distance away from their own little bubble.
These same people love to complain about how times are changing, and that there are no good people in the world anymore. What I ask is: how can you expect good to come to you in this world if you never put any out in the first place? Human beings (read: Americans) love to receive but never to give.
This country and its people frustrate me beyond comprehension. It’s caused me to begin embracing my punk side, because I’m exhausted trying to educate idiots who are clinging to lies and ignorance. Instead I’d rather drive them crazy, live my life on blast, and never apologize for who I am. I just don’t know if I’m ready to completely commit to the aesthetic. We’ll see though…