Young. Wild. Free.

Wow. My last post was back in October of 2015. It was on How To Get Away With Murder. I remember first coming across that show whilst searching up Alfred Enoch. He played Dean Martin in the Harry Potter movies, he was the only black kid. He becomes more relevant in the movies when he dates Ginny in Half Blood Prince, but he doesn't get more relevant than that. But I digress.

I remember searching him up to see where all the characters had gone off to and seen that he had starred in this show. Then, me and Kyle were looking for a new show to watch and then we came across it and we started to watch it together. We were hooked. Binge watched the whole first season in a week. Then we fan girled over it and other shows for a couple of weeks until they all ended. God, it feels so long ago.

I know what I want to say in this post. I know the story I want to tell. I know the feelings I want to express. What I hope this will do is... honestly. I really don't know. I hope it makes me feel better. Makes me feel stronger. More hopeful. More free. I've got my cup of tea. Grab yours and maybe a cup of Joe, too. This is going to be a long and bumpy story.

Around the same time as this post, I remember we had one of our biggest fights. I never thought I'd have a fight this big. I remember even thinking that I was such a tolerant person that I couldn't possibly get into huge fights. Then this happened. The fight of no return.

It was around Halloween time and we had planned to go to Mazilla. Mazilla is this corn field out in the poconos that people turn into a maze and create landmarks through the maize for people to find and mark. Actually loads of fun. That day, Kyle had mentioned that there was a house that was being forclosed and his client only deals with foreclosures that get fixed up and he wanted to check it out. Ultimately, he had planned that if he liked how it looked when it was fixed up that he would want to buy it and live there and then sell it and flip it years down the road.

For as long as I've known Kyle, he has always loved looking at and admiring houses. He's always talked about buying houses and other people buying houses and his entire family even talk about it. Shit, everytime his sisters came over, they would constantly tell him how good he's doing for himself and how he should just buy a house. This was something has always intimidated me. Looking back, I think my mistake was not addressing it then.

So, we go to see this house. Driving, this place was probably a good ten minutes from our apartment. From what I remember, it wasn't a bad looking place. Not great, but it had potential. Good space, reasonably sized yard, and it had the place had cupholders. I kid, I kid. It didn't have cupholders. (Deal breaker)

He loved the idea of this place. I think he had had his mind pretty well set before even going and then this was kind of icing on the cake. It had seemed so easy to him. He had a whole speech ready for me about how we were going to afford it, what it would do for us in the long run, etc. What he couldn't give me, we're the answers I wanted. Even more so, he couldn't get me to meet his point of view. If there could have been one defining moment of change, this was it.

At this point, I could no longer sugar coat anything. I had to make sure that I got my point across and that I got it across, firmly. I wasn't going to be pushed into doing something I didn't want to do, especially not something as big as this. Buying a house is a HUGE thing to do. Someone that I, being only 18 at the time, didn't want ANY part in. Shit, at that point, I didn't even have a car! I couldn't even afford a car payment or even insurance let alone a mortgage, or god forbid anything major went wrong with the house.

He asked me what I thought about his idea to buy it and flip it years down the road. At the first chance I got, I told him no. I had zero interest in this investment and there was not any room for compromise on the matter. First off, the place had been too far for me to really navigate. I was very fortunate that our apartment was about a mile down the road from campus, so I was able to walk to school. I was also very fortunate that the buses ran right in the vicinity of where I needed them to. This place, was not as feasible.

This place had been about another two miles from where we lived, ergo, another 3 from campus and 2 from the nearest bus stop. Kyle couldn't understand what that meant for me because he had a car. He could afford this move because getting around wasn't an issue for him, that and he makes more money than I do. However, he wouldn't have had the same problems as I, and he just wasn't seeing that. Nonetheless, it didn't matter to me whether he saw my point of view or not. My mind was made up, and it wasn't going to change.

After that discussion, we left to go for Mazilla. In that drive, I could tell the entire mood of the day had changed. He had been upset that I did not like his idea and that I didn't want to move. It had seemed that he had had so much faith that I wouldn't disagree with him and he'd be calling up his client to spread the news that he hadn't considered me saying "no". Everytime I had tried to hold a conversation with him, it was like talking to someone who was peeved at you. One word answers and pouting. I remember asking if he was okay, and of course he answers, "Yup, I'm fine." As if that ever means what it is supposed to, but I just let him deal with his feelings and decided not to push him into talking.

The whole evening at Mazilla, I got increasingly more frustrated with him because of this attitude he carried since the house viewing. He wouldn't want me to touch him, didn't want to talk to me, wouldn't listen to me, or even let me take the lead. He would sprint off into one direction and go, so after a while, I let him go. I let him go off into a direction and I went off into my own. The competitive part of me wants to admit that I found two or three landmarks while on my own and he hadn't found any. (Enter applause  emoji) Eventually, we linked back up, however, his attitude hadn't changed. He continued to sprint ahead without my discretion, until I forced him by intentionally leaving in a separate direction.

Two hours and a piss in the maize later, he pulls me aside in the middle of the maize and finally speaks up. He admits that he had been frustrated this entire time because of what I told him back at the house. He told me that he had saw such a great investment there and it would pave the way for us in the future. He had said that he had our best interests at hand, and that this would work out if I just listened to him.

I knew this had been coming, and I knew exactly what I had to do. My mind had not changed or even varied in the slightest in the hours we spent in the maze, and evidently neither did his. I had expressed to him once more that I didn't like the idea and that I didn't want to do it. The place is too far from civilization for me and is not feasible for me to get around, I didn't want him taking on most of the bills because I couldn't afford them, and I didn't want to be burdened by that much responsibility at such a young age. To me, we hadn't even been in our place long! At that point, we had lived there for 8 months! I hadn't even gotten the chance to fully enjoy living there. I LOVED being in that apartment,  and I was not ready to move by any means.

He continued to try and persuade me and feed me lines about how he was thinking about our future and how this would make it so much easier for us. At this point, I had started to get thoroughly upset because it had seemed like he hadn't even been listening to me. It was like talking to a bigot; only seeing one side no matter what. I had to get my point across. I needed to let him know that I meant what I said and that this wasn't something that I wanted to do. I knew what I had to tell him. Best part was that it wasn't bullshit. It was me speaking total truth.

I told him, "I can't make you do anything. At the end of the day, you are a big boy, and you are going to do whatever you want to do. But with that said, if you buy this house, it will be your house, and I will not be living in it." His face stood there astonished by what I said. What was probably a 20 second stare seemed like an hour, and he asked me if I was serious and I told him yes. Right at my response, he told me that he thought my thought process was stupid and immediately stormed off in the opposite direction and I couldn't even chase him. I stood there for a second and then I tried to find him, but I had lost him in the maize. I was so frustrated at this point, I don't even remember wanting to find him. I found the last two landmarks and then exited the maze.

Once I left, I sought him out to try to try to talk to him, but he wasn't having it. He continued to storm off and I met him at the car. At this point, I had had it. I tried to talk to him, but he didn't want to talk. I tried to be honest, but he didn't care. I tried to consider his feelings, but he didnt consider mine. I tried to be reasonable, but he chose not to be.

The car rise was quiet almost the entire way. I told him I didn't want to go to dinner, but he took us anyways. There, I didn't say a word to him. Shit, I couldn't even look at him. I was so infuriated by him, and him forcing me to go to dinner after I said I didn't want to was a slap in the face to me. I believe he tried to reach for my hand and then I snatched it away. If I remember right, he tried to have some type of conversation, but I was over it. I paid the bill, he drove us home, and I slept on the couch without saying good night. He didn't eve try to stop me. Rule number 10 of the love rules had been broken, and I didn't care.

The next morning, was quiet. Neither of us spoke to each other for the first hour and then he sat next to me. He grabbed my hand to hold it and I had snatched it away. I was still very furious with him. He hadn't considered my feelings. He called them stupid. He had hurt my feelings. I remember my mom telling me when I was younger to get used to getting my feelings hurt because it was going to happen a lot. That may be inevitable,  but it will be avoidable when it is possible and it will be enforced. The moment he had did that, was one of the moments he lost me in.

After I snatched my hand away, he rolled his eyes and walked away without further effort. With that, he got in the shower and my manager had reluctantly called me in early. With that, I got dressed and left without goodbye. Kyle expressed that that had been wrong of me, but I told him contrary. I felt as though he had not even began to truly try and I expressed that. I think that day was one of the many times I had actually believed I was going to have to break up with him.

Later that night, I believe we had actually had the conversation about what happened. He expressed that he wanted to move into a bigger place, meanwhile, in more words than I shouldbhave, I admitted that I had doubts in our relationship. I remember the amount of times that I would just walk out onto the balcony in the middle of the night contemplating how I truly felt about our relationship. How he made me feel. If we had been right for each other. What I would and should do. This fight had been something almost defining for me, and it was time I spoke on it.

He wasn't happy about it, but I don't think that he had taken me seriously. We had said that we would try to do better. I told him to stop rushing a move and he told me we had to plan something soon. So we compromised. If our neighbor had moved, we would take that apartment. It had been a lot bigger and only $25 more expensive. At the time, I thought this had been a perfect compromise because it wouldn't be further, wouldn't have been any more expensive, and it couldn't be for some time. Or at least I thought. I told you this ride was going to be bumpy. Remember that boiling hot cup of Joe? Grab it because it's about to get real cold in here.

Two months later, Kyle texts me while I was at work. At this point, I had been having even stronger doubts about our relationship and I had even expressed it to some of my closest friends and told them what it might even mean. It was amazing the feeling that this text brought me. I opened it and it said that he had great news for me. He didn't even need to tell me. I looked up at my friend (one of my coworkers at the time) and I told her. I told her that he had good news for me and that I knew what it was. It was the beginning of December and the year was coming to a close. I never thought this text would come this soon. I had been banking on the fact that it wouldn't, but it did. Our neighbor had decided he was going to move and that the apartment was up for rent. My heart had dropped.

I remember telling Kyle to just give me time to think about it, and he had been confused because he thought we had agreed, but said okay. Little did he know, I didn't need time to think about buying the apartment, I needed time to assess what it was that I was going to do next.

Maybe a week passes by, and I remember just feeling different the entire time. I had no patience. For anything. I didn't want to be bothere,. I had been angry all the time, and I felt trapped. I was a dick to Kyle and I made no effort in trying to hide it. I had become very blunt and less considerate as time grew on. The end was coming.

I remember being at work debating about what I was going to do. I knew I had to break up with him soon. I couldn't go into a new place and a new lease with the amount of doubts I had. I couldn't go another day of hiding my frustrations and going on the way I was. I had to break up with him while we were still on a good note and before I did something I'd regret. It sucked to have to ruin the holidays, but it had to be done.

I asked one of my coworkers how he had broken up with his ex-girlfriend hoping for good advice. It turned out that she was a bitch and he told her to fuck off. Not very helpful to my situation. Then another coworker came over while I was talking to the other guy. The sane guy I work was talking to had asked why I had asked and I had told the both of them that I had been planning to break up with Kyle. Me and the girl had walked over to where it was just me and her and I continued to talk to no prevail. I remember just talking about what I was going to do. Talking about how I needed to do what had to be done because if I didn't, we'd just end up hating each other. I had gotten about two sentences in and I started reminiscing. It had been amazing. The whole night I  had been scared and angry, but in that moment all of it relinquished to pain, distraught, and sorrow. I couldn't fight back the memories or the tears that came with them. I had remembered our first date at Chili's, the night I asked him to be my boyfriend, the beach trips, our move into the apartment, everything. It had all seemed to hit me like a wave hitting footprints in the sand and washing them away. That night, I broke up with Kyle.

We cried. A lot. I never thought I could hurt that bad. Or even hurt in that kind of way. I had always imagined that people had been exaggerating those feelings. This was no exaggeration. Nothing about this had been fake. None of this had been easy. In those 24 hours, i had to make one of the hardest decisions I've ever had to make in my life.

We had lived together for another two and a half weeks before Kyle had moved out. Those two and a half weeks had to be the most aggravating and stressful points in our relationship of knowing each other. He had not made it easy. I believe knew he had just needed space, which was very hard to do with us living in a one bedroom apartment. He predominantly stayed in the bedroom and I stayed predominantly in the living room. He slept in the bedroom and I slept on the couch. I tried to have conversations with him and tried to make sure he was okay, but he shut me out. Any time I had tried to talk to him, it had been one word answers or frustration and anger out of him. He only talked to me when he wanted something. It was only ever about splitting up possessions or sex, and it was enough to push me over the edge. He had finally moved out and we had another big boy talk resulting in a major key in our relationship: "it isn't about what you think you did, it's about what the other person felt you did." I stressed a major point on feelings. My feelings have always been of dire importance to me. They make me who I am and I am going to protect that.

As we rolled into the new year, I had intended to make this year count for something real to me. This was my first year that I had been single, living on my own, going to school, working, and being out of the closet. This is the first year that I've had to depend solely on myself. The very first year in my life where I am my own parent and my own best friend. When Kyle gave me his key to my apartment, that was the moment that introduced a new beginning for me. I had an apartment to refurbish, a life to restart, and new experiences to discover.

Currently, I am doing very well for myself. I still live in the same apartment, by myself, and going through each motion as it is presented to me. I have made it through the first couple of weeks at school and I am receiving my license for a new job that I will be starting very soon. I have been going on a couple of dates here and there, but nothing too heavy. There's even a guy who I've developed pretty big feelings about and I'm trying to decipher them and keep them at bay. I don't want to be in a relationship for a while. Right now, I want to date, have experiences at my leisure, work, meet people, etc. This year is all about redefining who I am as a person, as a young adult. This year is all about good times and good vibes. This year is all about making things happen. This year, I will be YOUNG. WILD. AND FREE.

~Be Breezy!~

How to Get Away With Murder

Hey guys, since my last few posts have been a little negative, I thought I'd write about something positive. I don't want to project that I'm a negative person because in reality, I'm the exact opposite. I'm a positive person who sees the negative, however, projects as much positivity as I can. I heard a quote once that said, "When you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change." There's enough negativity in this world to kill half of it, so without further build up. . . Today's topic!

About a month ago, me and my boyfriend were searching through netflix. Every night we get home from work and we'll be looking for something to watch because let's face it, TV just isn't what it used to be. All that is ever on these days are shitty remakes of classic shows, shitty reality TV shows, and the shit that no one wants to watch. Of course there are some good shows in contrast to those, but you only ever catch them if you stay home all day or its one of those once a week type shows.

So we were scrolling through trying to do d something to watch, and we came across this show called How To Get Away With Murder. The show came up in Kyle's top picks or most recommended,  but honestly we don't pay much attention to that section because 12 other people use his netflix. (Sorry Netflix) However, we had both came across this previously in passing and decided to give it a shot; it was another series to get into and it starred the wonderful and fabulous Viola Davis.

Mrs. - miss? I don't know if she's married or not... she should be, she's fucking Viola Davis! - Viola Davis has been a huge star for both of us in everything she's played, especially for me. She played one of the main characters in the movie The Help, which was an incredible story about what it was like during the Civil rights movement of black people's rights. I loved her ever since that film because she had been a huge advocate for black people and a wide inspiration to many.

In this show, Davis plays the hard ass professor of a law class in what I believe to be in the graduate school level. On top of that, she is also an active defense attorney in the courtroom whom does not lose cases. From the very beginning she takes on five students she names the "Keating Five" ( because her name in the show is Annalise Keating) that she essentially interns them and takes them into the courtroom with her and they are to help her solve and fight her cases. They are taken under her wing with her two associates and must continue their struggle in hiding and uncovering more about their dirty, little secret.

Right off the bat, you can tell that this show is a crime - drama. It includes the law and the fighting in the courtroom, however it is so much more. If you wanted to see law fighting and excruciating cases, you could just watch Law and Order or NCIS, or something, but I brought you to this show! Why? Because once you are engaged, you are hooked and there is so much more that you need to know before you can just jump ship. You need to know how she does it. How does she somehow manage to get these people who admit murders to her, off? You need to know how she plans to hide their dirty little secret. You need to know why she cares so much for these students. You need to know why more and more shit keeps happening to her. You need to know, what happens to the students in the very end.

Like in every show, at least in every good one, you get attached to the characters. In all honesty, that's what creates a great movie in my book! My ability to connect with the characters is crucial to me enjoying most things. I guess that is the psych major and sociology minor in me speaking. I just love people and I love getting to know more and more about them. Why did I feel so connected to Harry Potter? Because I literally grew up with him. When he cried, I cried. Harry was like a good friend to me, I listened even when he thought no one else did. I was there fighting with him in every book, in every movie, and just like his parents, I never left his side. Same goes for divergent. I felt like I grew up with Tris Prior. I've only read up to Insurgent, but I've known her since she was 16 and finding out in herself that she didn't belong in abnegation. Her panic in understanding in what it was to be different and having to hide it and fall in line to secure your safety?  I couldn't understand more. Harry and Tris are both important people to me because I was able to connect with them. To me that is key. In that case, How to Get Away With Murder has got me.

I am so involved in these characters, it is unbelievable. I think it even helped to bring in a familiar face for me to, and I do remember it being one of the bigger pushes to me watching it as well. Alfred Enoch stars in HTGAWM (typing that out everytime was getting to be murder) as Wes Gibbons or amongst the "Keating Five" he was formally known as "wait list" because of his unprepared first day in class was do to him being just allowed in because he was wait listed. If you look at Alfred Enoch closely, or have watched Harry Potter as much as I have, you could tell that he is Dean Thomas from Harry Potter. Dean is a longtime friend between Harry, Ron, Seamus, and really the rest of Gryffindor house. In Order of the Pheonix, Dean Thomas is actually dating Ron Weasley ' s sister, Ginny Weasley. Already, I was hooked from there because it involved Mr. Mudblood Dean Thomas!

However, the character that has really got me clinging to my bed sheets - Sorry Dean -  is Jack Falahee's character Connor Walsh. Connor is the clever, smart guy in the room who also has that sexy appeal to him. It's funny how much he rivals another student in the Keating Five by using his sex appeal to get him what he wants. Now, if you guys know me really well, you guys will also know why he is my absolute favorite. He is more than just a pretty face with a brain. . . That's right readers, you've guessed it; he's gay. (Enter applause)

You don't know how proud I was to find out that he was gay. At the very beginning, you know he's a major character because of the dirty, little secret he's involved in, but you don't find out right off the bat that he's gay. If you've been following along for a while, and if I had posted the paper I wrote my freshman year of college on The Fosters, you'll know that I LOVE it when they don't make it obvious that a character is gay. I just find that in so many shows, four out of five, that the gay character has got to be the traditional stereotypical gay guy with the flamboyant voice and traditional gay attributes. It's insulting. Yes, there are guys with those attributes in the gay community, howevwr, that is not all we are made of! In my paper, I even address how Will from Will & Grace is even made out to be a "straight - acting" gay guy with feminine attributes and is even sought out to end up with Grace!  We are a community with as wide a range of personalities as any other community, and it's about mother fucking time they noticed it!

What made Connor so much more meaningful to me was the fact that he was actually even competent. More so, he and his life are both relevant! How many times do you get the gay character that can't stop focusing on himself enough to be fucking competent in anything that the rest of the cast is doing! In addition, how many times do we actually find a good representation of a gay guy and then he's only seen for fucking 5 minutes and then he's never seen again, and if he is, he's only there for only five more fucking minutes! We don't ever get to know him or what his real attributes are like; they just so happened to have leaked that he was gay, or they probably blurted it out just to say they had a gay character, and exempt him from the show and claim to the public that they are proud to include a gay character. Bull. Shit.

In HTGAWM, everything Connor does has an impact on the show, his life, and the Keating Five. I believe in either the first or the second episode, he reveals that he is gay by seducing a member of the jury or a client and it works in their favor, also shooting at the sexual appeals of his rival, Michaela. Can we just stop to talk about this for a moment! The fact that his rival is supposed to be fucking Aja Naomi King is fucking awesome! She's an incredible actress, she's fucking gorgeous, and she's a great advocate for a black woman. Usually in these kinds of shows, there are two girls battling between sex appeal and brains, but in this case, they brought a King and a Queen. ( Ba Dum Dum) In this show, both of them are great looking people with great brains.

Back to Connor, the show holds him at being a little promiscuous, but as I'm growing up, I'm learning that what young adult isn't? It's not like they are doing it because he's gay and that's a stereotype, most young adults are just a little over horny, trust me, I know what I'm talking about! Even his colleague, Asher, is the same way! It is just nice to see that for once there is a character that can represent for those of us in the community who are so widely underrepresented. The nice thing is, a tiny spoiler, he grows out of being the obnoxious, sex crazing guy he is and "gets comfy."

In addition to Connor, and this is just me being the horny, young adult I am, you get to see some really good looking guys! Good thing is, everyone in the show so far is actually very attractive, but this guy Charlie Weber has got me running to all my girlfriends! I must have told almost 100 people about this guy. Google even knows when I'm going to search him up and what picture I want. Naturally, I don't go for the skinny and in fit guys as much, however, the second I seen that guy, I was fully hooked onto the show. He's not as big a character as Connor or the rest of the Keating Five, but he does have a pretty major role.

This show is a fantastic show. I wouldn't recommend it to anyone under the age of 16, but it is absolutely incredible. I am the furthest thing from being included in the topic of law, and this show still appeals to me. I think what this show has really even done to me has made me make that final push to thinking that I want to be a professor. For the longest time, I've always thought about being a twacher, but I could never find the age group that I liked enough to put up with it. On top of that, teaching jobs are hard to come by and there isn't anything within the couple subjects that schools teach that I would really want to teach to the extent I would want to. I have the patience to be a teacher and I think I have the personal skills for it as well. I think if I could be anything, I would want to be just like Annalise, just without the dirty little secrets everywhere.

I would love to teach my own class and then have my own little group of interns to work under me and I can get to know them all individually and I can build them up and set them off into the workplace, maybe even make my own office and have them work for me. I just love the idea of getting to be a role model just as she was. To have people look up to me and want to be me as people look up to Annalise and want to be like her. I would love to have that diverse group of interns that we all have something in common and individually we have even more in common and just becoming a good group altogether is amazing to me.

I have a research study that I take part in on campus that makes me feel almost how I would imagine Annalise makes the Keating Five feel. Everytime I am in the classroom with my professor and the other students, I feel special. Honorable. When she speaks about certain things, she keeps an extra eye out for us and we sneak glimpses at each other knowing that we're the special group she'll be talking about. Moreover, we've even got our own research lab! We've decorated it, brought in chairs and snacks and stuffs. I even go there in between classes as my time to get away. We've just gotten so comfortable in there and it has really given me that connected feeling to ESU that I always wanted in a college. In that form, is what I would want to give to kids in the future along with my own profession on the side.

How To Get Away With Murder is a must see. I have told everyone about this show because it is truly a show that needs to be known out there because of the underlying strengths that it carries. All of the first season is up on netflix and Hulu and the second season is playing on all the major news channels - excluding Fox and NBC - at 10 o'clock (I don't know what central, I guess 9?) on Thursdays. Please give this show a watch because that will make it continue to grow and we need more shows like this on TV that can actually benefit society.

That's it for today's post. I hope you guys had as much fun reading this as I did writing it. I enjoy writing about topics like this. They just flow so much better for me, especially since I've probably told this story almost 40 times. I hope to write again soon, and check out the show! Tell me what you think! I'd love to hear how everyone feels about it.  Or even just to say Hi! I have slowly been looking into more and more posts. I know these things are mostly internal, I love to hear from people, so I assume so do others.

Have a great weekend everyone!
~Be Breezy!~

Making Us Look Bad

Good morning guys, I know it's been a while, and I'm sure you're expecting the same usual BS. Well, that's good because that's really all it is. (Enter shameful emoji)

Today's post is brought to you by an experience I've been having in my Intro to Cultural Diversity lecture class. I can only hope that my writing is getting better as time goes on; however, being that I keep taking such huge hiatuses, it may be getting worse. But this post is mainly to get my thoughts out, however crude they may be, and hopefully get some feedback or answer my own questions.

I have an 8 AM lecture class that is required for my minor in Sociology and required for most other people's majors and minors, whatever they may be. In difference to some others, I actually find this course interesting, which I assume should be important if it is related to your choice of field. I actually care about what the professor is talking about and find the information interesting and engaging from time to time. Now, because I'm saying that I find the topics interesting doesn't mean that I don't find some parts uninteresting and boring. To all wide range courses, there are parts you like and dislike. In general, I think there are parts of things that you like and dislike, but you have to take the good with the bad. In fact, this course was going to be the deciding factor on if I was going to keep sociology as my minor because I didn't find the first course I took, Intro to Sociology, that interesting. It turned out to be my professor that I found less interesting than the course itself, which is good because it means I have a good professor this semester to keep me engaged. The problem this semester lies with this insanely rude student in the class.

This is a class of AT LEAST 100 students! The fact that ONE student could annoy me this much is insane! I never used to notice him until after he presented his project with his group. His group's topic of choice was nothing interesting and his performance was dull to say the least. What made him stand out to me was that he was obviously gay.

People like this always stand out to me because of their strength and their egos. They stand out to me because despite what the general population of males may think about guys who are flamboyant and for lack of a better term shoot rainbows or a purse falls out when the talk, they stay true to who they are and they do it with pride. This guy in particular where's the tight skinny jeans, the long, flowing cardigans, talks in a very effeminate voice, and paints his nails. I think the nails is what caught me right off the bat.

I remember painting my nails when I was little. I thought I looked soo cool. My older sister and mom did it, so I thought I would be just like them. And then my parents seen what I had done. My parents were obviously disapproving and made me take it off immediately. I never cared about it much growing up, it was just one of those things we did when we were little and got in trouble and never bothered with it again. I don't think about it now and I'm not jealous of the kid that wears it, I'm just proud of him for wearing it outright and proud.

So why does he bother me? No doubt he made me proud and made me feel like I wasn't alone. He stood up against stigma and fought it off of him. He stays himself among anything else. Why does he annoy me to my last nerve? Because of the rest of his character.

Ever since I noticed him that day, EVERY time I'm in class, I know he's there. Not because I can see him, and not because I find him attractive. (Gross) It is because I can hear is rude, obnoxious ass.

Every class period, this guy is fucking belching up a storm and talking over the professor about the STUPIDEST shit! He'll be complaining, or talking about what he's doing or what he would want to be doing, or gossiping, or talking about someone, and those kind of people aggravate the SHIT out of me!

It would be one thing if I only heard him or he only annoyed me whenever I had to sit near him, but he's obnoxiously annoying from everywhere in the room! He always sits in the back left corner of the room and his voice just fucking travels; mainly because everyone else is fucking quiet. One day, I had to sit next to him because I was already late and I didn't want to be picky on where I sat, so I sat next to him and a friend of mine who is friends with him. I never wanted to hit someone as bad as I did that morning.

This guy kept fucking complaining that he was getting sick, and then how he was going to shop online, asking our mutual friend if she liked the sweater he was going to buy, and why he should get it, and other clothes that were ugly, and how he wanted to go get coffee. I shit you not, this is the short list of what he actually did. What made it all so much worse was that he knew he was being obnoxious, and he was feeding off of it.

Today was just as bad, if not considerably worse. Today, the professor won't off lecture and started to talk about an experience that had touched him personally about genocide. He went on about the topic and even broke down and started crying because of how strongly this topic meant to him, and the kid was still being obnoxious and whatnot. I was unbelievably infuriated that the kid could not even hold himself together while the professor is pouring his heart out in front of the class and couldn't help myself from shooting him dirty looks for the remainder of the lecture.

So why did I choose to write about him? I'm in college now, I've had TONS of people annoy me in this manner before, if not worse! What makes this guy special enough to make me write about him? The impression be leaves behind.

Over the summer, the United States courts finally did the right thing and legalized gay marriage in all 50 states. This was an incredible victory for the gay community, and I wish I could have gotten myself to post something before I went to work that day, but I couldn't. After the initial excitement and tears and feelings had been gradually eradicated, I couldn't help feeling like we still aren't where we need to be. No doubt, we passed an incredible milestone and have come a long way, however, our fight and struggle are not over. We still have battles of stigma we need to fight. What about our Transgender brother and sisters? What about the youth that kill themselves and struggle with the knowledge that coming out could mean dire repercussions and exile from family and friends. What about that guy that doesn't know that being gay doesn't have to change who you are?

What makes this guy different from anyone else to me is the impact that he has on other people's meaning of what it is to be gay. I remember my dad and my assistant manager talking about how "all gay guys are catty and throw themselves out there, etc." What this kid is doing is proving to some people that that stigma is true. He's showing how we only care about ourselves and be obnoxious, etc. Guys like him make it hard for guys like me who come out because we don't want to be stigmatized that way just because we're gay.

Standing on the inside, however, I understand and know that it shouldn't be looked at that way, but sadly, it is. I know that he shouldn't be looked at as a spokesman for gay people, but when the population is scarce and uncommon, that's what happens. He didn't ask to be, just like I didn't ask to be, but we are; the difference is, I plan to use it to benefit the community.

As I continue to write and rant, I can see how my arguments can sound kind of weak and may seem like I'm picking at straws, but to me, that's what I see. It's what racist people see whenever they see that ONE black guy act obnoxious, and that's what bigots and ignorant people will see when they see him. No matter where we go or what we do, we are constantly being watched and constantly being stigmatized. It is our job to turn that into a proactive thing. I'm not saying to change who you are as a person, because trust me, I am far from perfect! What I am saying is watch what you do and where you do it, because it can sometimes be your footprint that people find.

That's my rant for the day. I'm still deciding on if I want to confront this kid publicly or do I want to do it gracefully and pull him to the side. The problem is that this kid isn't going to take me seriously unless I make an impact, but I have to remember that this is college and that things don't work out as easily as they should. Let me hear your guys' input, I'd love to hear what you guys think.

Enjoy your weekend,
~Be Breezy ~

Just Because We're Family.

Family. A loving bond between people that cannot be broken. Caring for someone so much that it hurts. Having their back no matter what it may take. Doing what's best for them in their best interest. Looking passed their flaws and loving them regardless. Sharing a blood relationship doesn't make you family, it makes you related.

Being that Mother's Day has come and gone and now the arrival of Father's Day awaits me next and soon the Fourth of July, I have put more thought into my feelings towards my parents and my aunt. Things have been a lot better now. I have moved out and I do my own thing for myself. I don't need to hear criticism from them about what I choose to do and not do. If I want to leave my room messy, fine. If I want to put off dishes for a day, I can do that, too. If I want to sleep with a man in my arms, I can do it with my conscience at peace.

It makes me wonder if my mother chooses not to criticize me in anything because of her fear that I may never talk to her again. Every so often (more like every couple of days) when I haven't talked to my mom or seen her, she texts me and asks me what's going on. I assume she's doing this because I'm her youngest and I still JUST moved out, but part of me thinks she's afraid she's done something to upset me as to where I don't want to talk to her. Ma, if you're ever reading this. . . No, you didn't upset me. If anything, I was literally preoccupied with doing something else and calling or texting wasn't the thing on my mind.

When Mother's day came, I sought it as a complete chore and something I found more than difficult to take part in. It always hard finding the perfect gift for the ones you love, but it is especially hard when you are mad at them. When this year's Mother's Day came, I was utterly infuriated at the thought that I had to get her something. Even more so when my father called me the day of! He calls me (and mind you, my dad NEVER calls me) and asks me if I called her and had a present for her. I couldn't be any more annoyed at that point.

But why was I so annoyed? Now that I have moved out, my relationship with my mom is basically back to normal. Why was I so angry you ask? It was because 1. I had to basically move out or change my life to fit their views for us to continue ANY kind of relationship with her and 2. She had put me through a living hell for 5 MONTHS. Excuse me if I do not have a right to be angry.

When mother's day had come, I didn't feel she deserved anything. She was lucky I was still even talking to her! Let's recap: She harassed and forced me to tell my father I was gay, she idly stood back and watch my dad tear me down every step of the way, she kept me confined in that house not able to do anything, and BLAMED me for anything and everything that went wrong from that point on. My aunt and her were fighting, that was my fault. My brother was acting out, that was my fault. Her job was annoying her, that was my fault. My dad's blood pressure was rising, still my fault!

Why should I have to get her a damn thing? She certainly won mother of the year award with those actions! Even when I tried to talk to her, it's like she hadn't even listened to me. I basically poured my heart out to her and then next day, she proceeded to harass me about telling my father. It's like it went through one ear and out of the other.

My anger hadn't even stopped there. What annoyed me most was the fact that I was supposed to forget everything that happened between us and put forth my money to show my appreciation and love for her. How dare anyone say that? What I took out of my father's phone call that day was that I am to make sure I get her a present and give her a call because "it would be nice to hear from me".

I'm sure it was considering all that she'd done. To me, getting her a gift was giving up what she had done to me and saying that it was all okay. It was putting up this smokescreen saying that the passed five months never happened. Forget the fact that you told me that I'm the reason that my brother is acting out. Forget about when you told me that my dad can't handle this bullshit that I'm putting out. Forget the fact that you told me to get out of your house because I was causing such a havoc in your house that none of you could stand it, a week before my birthday.

But no, seriously, it's okay you did all of that. Excuse me as I pay for these two $60 plants for you to plant in your yard as a reward for being a great mother last year.

As Father's Day comes, I can't help but think the same thing. For my father, the anger digs even deeper. My father and I have never gotten along in my eyes. We've had times where he's chuckled at my jokes and I have brushed off his, but all in all, I just remained civil. I never felt like he deserved much of an award or reward for the kind of dad he was.

Yes, he took us on vacations and out to eat, and gave us clothes and stuffs; however, that doesn't make up for everything he lacked and missed. He never came to any of my performances, whether it was chorus or my independent performances. He never tried to truly interact with me or my brother, if he did, it was in his own interests. And how can we forget about the memories of the screams and terror in my brother and mother's eyes as you beat them. I still hear my brother screaming for you to stop hitting him. I still wake up in the middle of the night straining my ears to hear if the pair of you are arguing to the point where you hit her. I still remember getting up at 1 in the morning and racing up the stairs with my sister and niece and watching you pin my mother down as she screamed for you to stop and you told us to go away.

I will never believe you deserve father of the year awards for those memories. But even more so now that you haven't made it any easier. You also played a part in my coming out that I won't forget. When that night finally came, you made sure from that point on that you were going to do everything you could to change me. You never even tried to understand. Every day you would force me into your domain where you would basically telling me I'm wrong for what I'm thinking and feeling, comparing me to pedophiles at every chance you could. Threatening to call the cops on my Boyfriend for corruption of a minor. Confining me into that house where you kept your own ideas enforced without any view of enlightenment.

Why should you deserve anything? I have to give it to my mom, when I told my parents I was leaving, I told them they had a chance to reconcile and continue a relationship with me, but they had to let this all go. I feel that my mom takes my warning into consideration. She does not try to upset me, at that, she reaches out to me and tries. The most blatant way to put it is if my parents didn't shop at my store, I would probably never see my dad. Why? Because my dad doesn't care to put forth a foot to see or talk to me. Like I said above, my dad does not call me! He does not try to text me or contact me in any way! So why should I continue?

The last time I seen my dad and had a conversation one on one was probably a month and a half ago. We go to my brother's house, their house, to watch Game of Thrones on the big TV movie room in the basement, mainly it's because they're the only ones with HBO. at that point, I would go upstairs everytime I got there to say hello to my dad and tell him how everything was going and to see how it was there. The conversation headed in the direction of school (surprise, surprise) and I told him about this inappropriate professor that I had this semester. I told him how the professor was utterly and totally out of order and inappropriate with his topics of discussion and there was no way of justifying it. The professor taught computer science and talked about how the girls in the class were sexy and if they had nude pictures on their phones and edging the boys on about sexy women manipulating them, etc. My father decided to disregard this as nothing compared to how I live my life. At this point, I knew where the discussion was going.

My dad basically informed me that unless I admit I am wrong for being gay, then I cannot fully judge him on his actions for they are the same. First, let me clear that up here and now. My professor was nowhere under the age of 60 and he was describing these female students, whom were no less than 18 and no more than 20, as sexy individuals and coming up with scenarios where they would be portrayed nude. That is in NO WAY acceptable on any account! Number one: that's disgusting that he is that old talking about young girls like that! Number two: He is a professor and those are students, and that is no different than a teacher sleeping with a student, which is unacceptable and prohibited. That is in NO WAY comparable to being gay, nor is it relatable to my relationship with my boyfriend.

This to me was a complete slap in the face. He not only insulted my point of view, he insulted my community, my integrity, and my relationship, but because I was in his house, I did not argue it. I brushed it off, and told him it was time for me to leave. I had no intention of making it seem like I was okay with what he said, but he knew I was not okay with it. He knew what he said was completely out of line and inappropriate, but he didn't care. So my state of mind is, why should I?

Why should I care to continue tired conversations that I have to carry and lead into a direction where he doesn't pissed me off? Why do I have to go out of my way to make him feel special provided everything that he's done? Like I said, if it were up to me, he wouldn't get anything. He'd be lucky if I even called him on Father's day.

Lastly, my aunt. About a month ago, my sister texted me and told me that my aunt was having a fourth of July barbecue at her house in NY, as she usually does, and she would like for me to come. This is the very same aunt who outed me almost 7 months ago to my mom without permission. This is the same aunt who ruined everything for me. The same aunt who cursed out my mother a month and a half ago over this situation.This is the very same aunt, who has still not apologized to me for what she has done, nor has she called or talked to me in general.

This was nothing more than a slap in the face to me. What's more on top of that was the fact that my aunt couldn't even tell me herself! She told her daughter (my cousin) who told my sister and SHE told me. This situation more than most was one where it felt like she was telling me, "Forget about what happened, at the end of the day, we're family." This is what brought everything into perspective and probably what provided some of the anger to continue towards my parents.

The three of them seem to carry this one state of mind: Just because we're family, we should forget about what happened and move on. So what you're telling me is, I'm supposed to drop everything that happened and forgive you when you never even apologized, and jump back to where we were? And that's all because we're family? No. Not at all. Family doesn't do what you've done to each other. Family doesn't hurt one another intentionally and does not apologize for it. My family, doesn't do that to me. My family, hasn't done that to me; and I'll be damned if I'll be told a member of my family has done that and expects me to stick around.

In short, no, I don't think I will forget this. Maybe I'll quote Nicki Minaj and "Forgive, won't forget, but I'ma dead the issue." I want to make sure that this is a lesson that sinks in and is learned by everyone. It is not okay to hurt others in ways of no return. Moreover, sometimes a little "sorry" can go a long way. In my book, swallowing your pride and owning up to a mistake, one of the biggest ways you can go.

To all the mothers and fathers out there, don't think that because you have a day devoted to you that you have a right to be rewarded and awarded just because you provide for a child. It's the care for the child that counts.

~Be Breezy ~

Talking Professional

Woah, who's this guy?! I know, I have been on an incredible hiatus lately, a lot bigger than I had intended. I find it a bit funny that my reasoning is always that life has taken me away and I just never find the time to write, and yet, it is absolutely my reasoning! You would think after me quitting one of my jobs that I would have a bit more time, but I certainly don't! I work literally almost 40 hours a week and when I'm not there, I'm in class, and when I'm not there, I'm cleaning the apartment. The little bit of time I actually have to myself is generally on the bus when I just want to dive into the Harry Potter books.

Anywho, life in the apartment has been GREAT! It is literally the best thing I have ever done. I couldn't be happier. My life appears in this new light, a light called freedom and responsibility. In this light, I do whatever it is I deem beneficial to my life with my boyfriend, my job, and in pursuit of my career. I make all my choices and I don't have to refer to anyone else.

The best part is, no part of my move was detrimental to my relationship with my parents, at least not too much. My mom has come over and seen the entire apartment and even complimented on it! The parts that I was the most afraid of showing her were the parts that she seemed to have loved the most! I was petrified of showing her the bedroom, which holds two intimate pictures of me and Kyle and a Mr. And Mr. Sign, and the bathroom that holds two small his and his towels. She loved it all.

My dad has yet to see the apartment,  but according to my mom, he couldn't be more proud of me. She told me that he brags to everyone that I live on my own and how I afford it all with one job and I'm going to school. Every Sunday when we go to my parents house to watch whatever series me and my brothers are watching, I go to talk to my dad and he still talks to me, which is a plus, but beyond that, he seems the same.

Now that I have brought everyone up to speed, it is time to talk about the real topic. That's right everyone, I'm talking about the real scoop! The official trash. The bad mother SHUT YOUR MOUTH! Grab your cups of hot chocolate, take a swig, and let's discuss.

I work in a grocery store in the produce department. This place was even my first job. I have worked at this store since I was sixteen as a bag boy and have worked my way up since. I had gone from being a young bag boy, to being a cashier, to having worked with my managers, to now being in produce. Obviously, I like my job. I've been there for two years! I don't like working in certain parts of the store, but overall, it was a good first job and is a good place for me to hang out until I can work in my field.

The best part about my job are my coworkers. I get along with almost all of them and they all love me. They all know, for the most part, about me being gay and they're all cool with it. They've known me since I was just starting out and have seen me mature ever since. They love my work ethic and especially my ability to have fun at work. I'm always joking and always smiling. The customers love it, my coworkers love it, and it makes me smile to see such a smile on their faces.

Now that I work in a different department, I have more responsibilities and different coworkers. I still love them all the same, in fact, we're almost like a bit of a family. There's not many of us and we're not that close, but we work together pretty well and we get the job done. We know not to take each other seriously, we're a department filled with guys, NOTHING is ever too serious. Unless something gets messed up and puts us behind, then shit gets real. However, we all know what gets each other tick and sometimes we push on those buttons, but at the end of the day, we all have the same goal.

Me and my manager have a good relationship as well. I'm pretty sure I'm his third favorite part timer. There's this older gentleman who's been there for a long time, another guy who had been there longer than any other part timer other than the older gentleman, and then me. I've only been there about 5 months, so that's about what I expect.

As I've said, everyone at my job knows that I'm gay, including him. Just to get this out there, he is in no way homophobic. He and a lot of my other new coworkers know that I'm gay and none of them give a shit. They hadn't done much more than a quick flinch when I slid it into conversation, but nothing more than that.

Today, I was joking with him and he always jumps to either gay jokes or black jokes, which I don't mind. I actually find them pretty hilarious if they're well thought out. Anyways, he made a joke to which me and another coworker laughed at and then my assistant store manager came over, which I couldn't care less. My assistant store manager is no more intimidating than my other coworkers, and he knows I'm gay as well.

The three of us just started joking around and bullshitting when my manager asked me about working tomorrow. I told him I could only work in the morning because I had already made plans with my partner. Quickly, he stopped and focused the conversation on the fact that I said "partner". He had done this once before but not as big as he did this time.

Just like he did once before, he asked me why I refer to my boyfriend as my partner and if my boyfriend appreciated the fact that I referred to him that way and if he refers to me that way. In the spur of the moment, I just joked with him and played it off as I did with anything that he said. I guess my assistant store manager felt a bit awkward cause he glanced at me and walked away chuckling. This moment ended with my manager giving a very nervous laugh meaning it was funny that my assistant store manager reacted that way even though it shouldn't have been brought up that way, but letting me know he was just joking and sorry if he annoyed me.

I hadn't really been annoyed with him, he just made me think. It was definetly something I had thought about before. This was the second time he said this. Why did he ask? Why does he care? He doesn't care, but why would he pick on that? The main important thing was, he was right.

Why did I refer to Kyle that way? Why does Kyle do it? Why do most gay guys do this? Was it just me? Does it mean anything? I certainly didn't like referring to him that way. So why did I do it? I wouldn't do it if I were talking to any of my other coworkers that I'm friends with.

It makes me wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that they were my managers? Maybe it's just a part of a professional front that I put on when around them? The only problem with that is I'm always talking to them as if they were just my friends; it's just how our relationships are.

Maybe it could be a defense mechanism. Just like in the way that I usually tell people I'm gay by just inconspicuously sliding it into conversation. I always kind of avoid just having to bluntly say "I'm gay" by usually using the word "partner" or something like that. It usually breaks the initial reaction of wanting to pause and focus on the fact that I just said I'm gay because it kind of explains that it isn't a big deal, nor is it something that we need to focus on.

By using the word "partner," I avoid directly and bluntly outing myself by saying boyfriend. When I say boyfriend, I feel like everyone automatically think of me having sex with another guy and/or they immediately think less or something of me and that's not what I want. I don't want anyone getting that thought that now there is this barrier between us that makes us different.

But is that right? Is that fair to Kyle? More so, is that fair to me? Is it fair that I don't acknowledge Kyle with as big a name as boyfriend. Is it fair that after all the fighting and arguing that I jump back into hiding mechanisms because I was too afraid to just come out and say that I'm dating another guy that I refer to as my boyfriend? No, it is not.

I think I would even be a little offended if Kyle referred to me as his "partner" rather than his boyfriend. In certain circumstances I understand, like in the case of the elderly where you just don't want to have the argument. However, when it's in everyday normal situations, we deserve to be as open as we want to. Straight couples don't refer to each other as their partner, so why should we?

Saying "boyfriend" does not make me somehow less professional.  If anything, it should make me feel empowered. To be able to take over conversation and not show any fear, or to show that I can be me and have a boyfriend. If anyone has a problem with it, they don't have to talk to me.

I should thank my manager for bringing this to the light for me, but I don't want to give him that much credit. Let me know what you all think, should saying partner matter? What is the difference in meaning between the two?

Thanks for reading everyone. Please remember to enjoy what you have and appreciate it. Don't take what you have for granted.

~Be Breezy ~

A New Life.

Hello everyone, the last time I wrote, I was in a very bad place. Actually, the last couple posts I had been in a very bad place; a place that I escape into often. I definetly don't regret writing those posts, as they were written "in the moment" and expressed my truest feelings. Every now and again I even find myself rereading those posts as a reminder of where I am and why I still may feel the way I have been. Now, time has passed and I've decided to take a huge leap in my life. In turn, this doesn't make room for much of an escape route in my mind. Sit down everyone, as this is going to be a bumpy ride.

Everyday, I face the the events that have scared me all my life. For years I had tried to keep my biggest fear, just a fear, but now, it's a reality. This reality is something that I face in my dreams, in my relationship, in my memory, and in my house hold. I knew coming out to my parents was going to be more than just revelation; more than just a weight off my shoulders. . . It was going to be an end of an era and life as I knew it.

My parents are incredibly homophobic. It sucks, but it's true. I've known it for years and I thought I had came to accept it. I remember thinking, "They can either choose to overlook this and stay in my life, or they can choose to deny and fight this and be exiled from my life." I always expected that to be easy. For that matter, I guess I kind of hoped those were just going to be words. I had hoped that my parents would never go that far and would just realize that this isn't a big deal, but so far, they haven't. Day in and day out, this is and problem that we face everytime we look at each other. And now, this is a problem I can no longer handle.

Back in October, or November, I made the decision to move out with my boyfriend. I had decided I can't deal with the stares any more. I could no longer deal with the silence. The lectures. The pointless battles. The constriction. The thoughts. The fear. My anxiety starts here.

For weeks, I couldn't study at home because I couldn't help thinking that everytime I wasn't around, they were talking about me. I would listen close to the voices amongst the walls, patiently waiting for my name to be recited in that tone of disappointment. I would pause to hear what I was going to be lectured about next. To hear what else they didn't like about me. To hear what was next to come my way.

I couldn't take it anymore. Before, I could just leave my house and hang out with my friends and be back later when everyone was too tired, but now that wasn't even an option. My dad once said, "there's no point in being home if you're not comfortable." And that was exactly where I was at. I couldn't be around my parents. Just the aura around them was enough to consume me and eat at me. Even now I feel that aura exuding around, and it is letting me know, I am not welcome.

I always hope that me and my parents would null and void these auras and reconcile our relationship, but that just doesn't seem like it will be a reality. Today, I had one of those moments. I had off from work today and so did he. After class, we were free to hang out together, as we never are for more than 3 hours. Usually, I'd use my excuse of "I have to work today," but today, like some others, I had a ray of hope. Maybe today I didn't have to comoletely lie to my mom. Maybe I could just tell her I'm going to go to dinner with my friends and hang out for a bit beforehand! Fortunately yet unfortunately, my boyfriend brought me back to reality.

About three weeks ago, my mom even gave me trouble going to the movies after work. Granted I was going with my boyfriend, but my best friend (bro) was also going, which I informed her about. She asked me why I hadn't asked my brother, as he sometimes does go with us, and proceeded to end with, "unless you're not really going with bro." Obviously, she doesn't trust me and she still has bad blood from the passed couple months, which I carry with me as well.

What was I thinking? I was going to ruin my chance of hanging out with my boyfriend by telling her one little lie versus the believable lie? That's the hope I'm talking about. The hope where I believe that this is all over and things can go back to a very twisted version of normal. Maybe soon that'd turn into her being okay with me saying boyfriend. But unless we're being naive, chances are, that just won't happen.

I'm always thinking of where we'll end up. the other day, I was in the car with my boyfriend and his mother listening to them talk to his aunt. Cracking jokes with her and reminiscing. It hit me kind of abruptly; I don't have that anymore and I won't have that later. I've heard stories where people have come out and they've lost their relationship with their parents, but it feels much different when it's yours that's gone. I can't just walk into the kitchen and joke with my mom anymore. I won't get to introduce my family to my boyfriend as he introduced me to his. I won't be able to just call up my aunt or cousins and just have a conversation anymore because that thread is gone.

This creates a feeling of anxiety and stress on me that not many will understand, and if you don't already know how I feel about people trying to understand, let me set the record straight. . . I don't like it. Don't try to understand how I feel or relate, because you can't. So you may have an aunt that doesn't accept it. Maybe you have an uncle who turned his back. But you don't have your parents turning their back. You don't have those great memories with them, knowing that they're going to just be memories. You don't know how it feels to be disgusting in your mother and father's eyes and not wanting to be acknowledged more than a fly on the wall, so please. . . Don't try.

Move in day will be a day full of anxiety. For that matter, the week of is going to be filled with anxiety and stress. How will my parents feel about this? Will they pretend not to care and act as if they will be better off without me? Will they act as if they want me to stay? Will they fight me on leaving? Will they still want to keep a relationship with me after I leave? All these questions are ones that haunt me everyday. These are questions that make me nervous for the future.

Now to take a shift in focus, let's talk about my moving out. This is a step in my life that I hadn't intended to happen for at least a couple more years, but sometimes you've just got to take what life gives you and run with it. Although this was not something I had planned to happen for a while, I'm kind of excited that it is happening. To think, in a couple of weeks, I will be getting to decorate my own place and wake up next to the love of my life every morning and get to lie next to him every night when we go to bed. We will take turns cleaning, cooking, maybe washing clothes, etc. Soon, we'll get to do all the things we never got to do in the 10 months that we have been dating that couple would have normally done already. We'll finally get to stay in and watch movies, cook food for each other, sleep together, and shower together. I couldn't think of a better way to live other than with him.

However, this still brings me fear, anxiety, and stress. Along with this exciting adventure brings trials that I have never really had to face before. My parents had already made me pay "rent" since I was a senior in high school, so that's nothing entirely new, but now I will be paying for electricity, cable, car insurance, and groceries. Along with that, I will have to face doing my own laundry and learning how to do it well on my own.

This is a whole new world to me and it is nothing that I take lightly. This is more than just working, but also budgeting and time management. I have to assure that my job is giving me a certain amount of hours a week to afford everything. Along with that, I have to ensure I am providing myself with enough time for my school work. Now, i must take on the responsibility of doing my taxes in my own and filling out fafsa by myself. In this situation, both of them come first.

Moreover, I have to be conscious that I cannot put all my focus on those two attributes. He may not want to admit it, but I have to incorporate attention time to my boyfriend. I have to let him know how handsome he is, everyday. Let him know how much I love him, at least three times a day. Make sure I give him a hug, at least once. Do something wierd to him, constantly. Just make sure he knows that he is a main attribute to my life and that that will never change. No matter how overwhelmed I get, I must always ensure these rules.

Even right now, the anxiety trails through my head, but more in a self worth kind of way. I find it kind of hard to explain this, so I will do the best I can. In this move, I don't have much. I've accepted that most of the stuff I have, can't come with me. It almost makes me feel like an orphan with a box. You have a box full of stuff that you take with you, and that is your only memory of what you ever had.

Sadly, the best way to describe this is through comparison. My boyfriend is moving into our place with his dresser, his desk, his hutch, his car, his chairs, his tvs, and his curtains. In this move, I will be bringing my clothes. Granted, we bought stuff together, using his card.

Being that this is all new to me, I never took interest in buying couches, buying tables, rugs, etc. He took interest in all of this a while ago and was already on it. Everyday, he searched for the best deals and came to me with ideas and I just went to work and said, "I like that." This makes me feel inferior. Not only inferior, but as if I'm not contributing anything except for my side of the payments. Don't let me cut off anything, I feel as though I don't have anything.

I felt inferior because this was not something I took an interest in doing. This was something I should have been doing, too, but wasnt. I felt like I wasn't contributing anything because I never really had anything to bring to the table, and if I did, they weren't really great ideas anyways. Finally, I feel like I don't own anything because I don't. And worst of all, this should lead us to a conversation that neither of us want to have, one I am petrified to have, and if you read between the lines enough, you'll understand.

It all kind of hit me suddenly, but all I will have to my name will be the clothes I wear. Shit, if I'm lucky, I'll get my piano, too, but those will be the only things. I thought of it today while helping clean my boyfriend's car. He liked to do it himself because he takes pride in his own, meanwhile I stood there with the only things I owned.

Since we're moving in together, I shouldn't be thinking in the sense of mines, just ours, but it doesn't seem like something that is that simple to me. Like I said, this is all still brand new to me, and it will take some getting used to. All of it. The lack of ownership. The amount of responsibility. The lack of family. This was all going to be apart of my new life. Even though I'm scared shitless, I'm excited. I'm excited for the adventures that will await me and the trials that surround them. It's time to put my anxiety aside, and get ready to run full force. Ready. Set. Go.

~Be Breezy~

Isn't It Sad?

Isn't it sad that what you're doing to me is what generally drives people to drink? Or even worse to be alcoholics? Let's dose it up a bit and bring up how long this has been going on and how often you do it? With the way those drug addicts talk, you would have potentially drove me to smoke; maybe not even stop there. I could have smoked weed and not given a shit about anything. Eventually throw my life all away and give into the temptation of Marijuana to "get away from everything," but no, I haven't done any of that.

Day after day, you blame me for everything that's going wrong. First, the problem was the broken relationship between you and your sister. Then it was your problems at work. Then it was my brother is incredibly quiet. Now it is me and my brother don't give a shit about anyone but ourselves and my being gay is tearing this family apart.

Let's get some things straight here. . . I'm not. Cliché to say, but it's fucking true. I had nothing to do with the lack of communication between you and your sister. YOUR sister decided to "out" me on that fucking cruise! She had nothing to do with MY business because I never included her in it, but she did it anyways. SHE ruined that fucking trip for you, and then YOU didn't want to talk to her because of the awkwardness and simply because it was none of her DAMN business.

YOU made that fucking decision. You two are fucking 50+ years old! If you want to talk to your sister, give her a mother fucking call. YOU are the reason why you didn't talk to her. If you didn't want to talk to her about me, then don't. Simple as that. Fucking immature ass problem, and for what? Because you're uncomfortable?  Well don't fucking look at me because she started that shit.

Next, you want to fucking blame me for your problems at work? Fuck that. I don't go to your fucking job. I function a state away. Two, if you take a different route! How the fuck am I compromising your coworkers behaviors? They don't fucking know me! If your coworkers - who mind you, work under you - disrespect you or you don't like how they are with you, fix it. That, again, had NOTHING to do with me.

Here's something else that had nothing to do with me! My brother is quiet? When the fuck hasn't he been?! Everytime there is a family gathering, is he not inside? Whenever we go to our cousin's house, does he not always just stay upstairs? If he doesn't want to talk, then he doesn't talk. He's a fucking big boy. He's 18, if he had something to say, trust me, he'd fucking say it. I did not somehow shut him up because of my homosexuality. I told him when I was 13, and you had NO fucking idea of a difference from then, so obviously, it has nothing to do with me.

Now, we come back from a weekend trip and we don't make a phone call because we're 18 and didn't know had to check in Everytime something happens, and we don't give a shit about anyone but ourselves and my being gay is ruining everything. For one thing, I understand that we haven't called all weekend or anything, but we're not fucking kids. If something went wrong, trust me, we'd let you know. We're 18, we do not need to call you for every little thing. If you had told us that you would have liked us to call you once we got there or got home, that would have been something different, but you didn't.

The main problem here is you don't communicate anything. We have NEVER done that. All of a sudden, we're just supposed to know that this is now a thing? No. If you want us to do sonething, ask and we'll execute it as best as we can, but until you do so, shut the fuck up.

Two, my being gay didn't ruin anything. You two are the ONLY two people who have EVER reacted badly to my being gay. If I "so-called" "ruined" our relationship, how come it was this easy to break and why were you two the ONLY ones who I am "ruining" this for? It's YOUR ignorant assess that continuously harass me and question me day in and day out, telling me "I'm wrong," and "I make everyone around me feel uncomfortable." Then don't be around me.

Frankly, I don't want either of you around me. After the constant harassment, lectures, and the not listening to me, why would I? So you can hurt my feelings more? To break my heart? Or maybe to threaten my relationship with my boyfriend? Or how about try to change me from who I am?

You refuse to listen to me, so why bother? My silence could be a sign that you're not worth the fight. I'm afraid that if I sang a song, you wouldn't hear it. I'm at the point where I don't even want to sing because this song is as tired as your ignorant comments. I don't know how your parents did it, but frankly, it doesn't matter. You can't not be a part of my social life for 18 years and then decide to jump in when things get interesting. Nope, sorry, that's now how things go in my line.

But that's just it. After 18 years, NOW you want to be and part of my social life? You claim that you want to have more conversations and stuff to become closer and create dialogue, but why didn't you do that two weeks beforehand? Or why don't you do it to my brother? I get it, because they're not "broken". So what happens after I "get fixed"? Do things go back to normal, because then that somehow does not sound like you wanted to become closer to me; that sounds like you wanted to make things go your way and then go back to where you were. Sorry, but you're either a part of my life, or you're not, and right now, you're not putting yourself in a good position to be a part of it.

It's truly sad. Sad to see that my parents, the people who love me no matter what, would rather have me gone than live with me because I'm gay. I have never done drugs, don't drink alcohol, I get good grades, people love me, but the one small thing about me you choose to let define me. For 18 years, who I dated or slept with had been completely irrelevant, but now it is.

You tell me not to lie to you, but all you want are lies. You say not to follow the crowd because all they are are flies. You say that we're family, but that's what kept me blind. You think you mean something to me? All you are to me is wasted time. Isn't it sad?

~Be Breezy~

Family Matters

I really do not want to get up and grab my psychology book, but I'm pretty sure that this title is a pragmatism in language, meaning that this phrase can be interpreted in two different ways. One way it can be interpreted is that family is important and will always mean something. The other interpretation is a situation that involves family, exclusively. Now, I addressed this to not only prove my consumption of information in my major, but also to make this clear that this post is about both. I decided it was time that I finally let out and gather my thoughts about how I truly feel about this family matter and how much this family matters. Hopefully my thoughts won't be too wild and hopefully everything stays pretty organized. I guess the best way to do this is to start from the very beginning. So without further ado, sound your trumpets, because King Kaseem is here to invoke the message!

As you may have read in a previous post, I met my boyfriend 6 months ago and we had dated all through the summer. It being the summer meant that I had a lot of free time. It was the summer of my graduation, of course I wanted to have fun! This was the summer that I believed was going to be the best because I didn't have to go back to high school and I was starting a new life elsewhere. Little did I know at that point in time that I wouldn't be attending WVU, but I did my best to enjoy the summer.

On top of it being the summer that I graduated, this was my first summer in a relationship. For that matter, it was my first time being in a relationship! Naturally, this would mean I was going to have a summer jam-packed with all sorts of events!  I was constantly going on dates and going to the movies and laying about, alongside working of course. Every day was another day to be filled with adventure, of course, unless my parents had anything to say about it.

All summer, my parents had been fighting me on going out at every possible chance. If I went out on monday, then it was a problem that I went out on wednesday. If I went out wednesday, then I didn't need to to go out for the rest of the week and into the following! This came across to me and any other person abstract because after all, I'm a teenager! For Christ's sake, all teenagers go out! All of them want to go do things in there free tine! Why would I want to stay at home and do nothing all day? That doesn't even make sense!

After the summer began to wind down, me and my family were just topping off our summer vacation with a cruise to the along the Mexican islands. During this trip, I had a great time. All the food we could eat, different sights every day, and some wild excursions from time to time. However, the trip did have its shortcomings when it came to excitement outside of the excursions. My brothers, cousins, and I were constantly looking for things to pass the time by, which was incredibly irritating. However, it was fun to spend some time with my brothers and cousins, for we are all hilarious together. And that's what this trip was about. We are the ones who all graduated from high school and we were celebrating it together as adults and away from our parents. Which in the end, led to an incredible change to my life.

During this trip, me and my brothers never spent time with my parents. We had never thought anything of it. We were old enough to do everything in our own and we paid for everything on our own! What could we possibly need them for? They did their grown up things and we did what we could in our age group. My dad made it very clear to us years ago that we can't have the same fun as them, so we let them have their fun just as we had ours.

We didn't do much with them because that just wasn't what we were used to. If they had asked, that would have been one thing, but they never did. They asked us for one night, which we gave to them, but beyond that, we did what we always did: our own thing. My family has never been the type to sit at the table together and have dinners or breakfast; it's just not something we did, ever. For this to all be a problem to my mother was a complete mystery to my brother and I because this had all been so natural to us, that it just seemed normal. We didn't have conversations with my dad because we just never have. Any time we did, it was a lecture, which we did not want to hear. Everything was exactly how it always had been, but to my mother, this was complete and utter disrespect.

When we arrived back home, she expressed to me and my brother exactly how she felt. Hurt, cheated, oucasted, all because we didn't call them or have dinner with them? I'm sorry, but we're not kids anymore. We are both in college and at that point I was a couple months from being 18, but we were still too old for that to be a legit excuse. We have far outgrown hanging out with our parents and wanting them to be with us. She knew this day was going to come and she cannot make the big stink that she is making about it now.

Sadly to say, this was still just the small part of the worst trip ever. During our cruise, whilst me and my brothers were on one side of Belize going zip lining, my aunt was on the other side of the island "outing" me to my mom. I hadn't even been there to stop it, but even worse, my aunt never even came to me to talk about it.

I didn't find out until the very next day when my cousins all told me, which at that point, it had already been too late. When we arrived back in the states, I asked my mom about it, and her response was nothing less than hateful. "How could you do this to us, we raised you better than this, just wait til your father finds out!" Etc. I quickly hushed her to hide it from my father, but when we arrived home, I never heard the end of it.

When we got home, my mom had this very long talk to me about how she felt. She let me know that she doesn't believe me and how hurt she feels and then the rest about how she felt about me and my brother. All I could tell her was that it was the truth and that we hadn't known what we were doing. But it didn't end there. Over the course of another two weeks, I proceeded to try to make my mother understand. I tried to let her in and be honest with her and tell her how I felt. I read my old blog posts to her, revealed to her my fears, and unmasked the love of my life. I wanted to let her know that I was tired of lying, and tired of hiding. I wanted her to know that if I were sure that they wouldn't have left me, I would have told them. I wanted her to understand what it meant to be gay and that it was nothing that what she had been made to believe. I wanted to let her know, above all else, that I was happy with my life. That I was gay and I was proud.

Unfortunately, she was not listening. She basically ignored everything I had said and focused one thing: herself. She turned it all about her and how it made things worse for her. She was complaining about how she doesn't have a relationship with her sister anymore, and how she's stressing because my dad doesn't know, and work, etc. ever since she found out, she had been badgering me and harassing me to admit it to my father that I was gay. Constantly, I tried to have conversations with her and tried to continue vein honest, which she responded with anger and more badgering. For those two months, I was panicking because I was in fear that she was going to tell my father herself and/or that my day to tell him was coming up. She would give me deadlines as to when to tell him and then tell me not to. I would be all worked up and ready, where she would tell me it wasn't the right time because he wasn't feeling well. One of these times, I remember we had a conversation through text, one that I could never forget.

My dad had just undergone his eye surgery and I figured it had been the perfect opportunity to tell him because for one he couldn't give me any judgemental looks, but he also couldn't cause any possible harm due to his handicap. I figured this was the safest way to go about this, but my mom did not agree. That night, I told my mom exactly how I had been feeling about what she had been doing. I told her she is stressing me out and she is hurting me. I let her know of how scared I was and that I was not ready, but she didn't care. She responded with "I don't care how you feel" and proceeded to give me a deadline to tell him. At this point in time, I had had it.

For months she had been blaming me for the disconnection between her and her sister. She had been blaming me for the stress she had been experiencing from work and my father. She had been blaming me for what she couldn't handle and I wasn't dealing with it anymore. At this point, I wanted almost nothing to do with her. I had nothing to do with any of that. Your SISTER caused the disconnection between you two! Your sister decided to run her mouth off to you about something she was not sure of and on top of that, had nothing to do with her. No matter what her state of consciousness was, she should be able to take responsibility for her own actions. If you can't control yourself after that many drinks, than you obviously so not need that many. If you can't be at least somewhat conscious while you are drunk, than you don't need to be drinking. When I'm drunk, I know what I'm doing and what I'm saying, And I'm only 17. If you can't do that by the age of 50, then you need to reevaluate your habits.

Before I proceed with the story, allow me to further discuss exactly my problem with my aunt. If you were drunk, why can't you admit that you were wrong? If you were truly not in the right state of mind, why do you feel the need to defend yourself and not apologize? Things would probably be a little better if she had apologized and admitted that she was wrong, but she didn't. She won't even acknowledge the fact that she did wrong, which does not sound like it was done unintentionally. The main thing is, it had nothing to do with you. No matter what you thought or what your position was, you had no right to out me. On top of that, how could you do that to someone, ESPECIALLY your nephew. You know what that's like, your own son is gay! You should know better than that, but you didn't care. And you don't care. So therefore, we have nothing more to say to each other.

After that night with my mom, approximately two weeks after that night, my mom again forced me to tell my dad and I had had it. I told her if it'll get her to leave me alone, than consider it done. After that night, our relationship was over. Just like my aunt, we had nothing left to say to each other. So what does this mean? Don't have a conversation with me. Don't try and Crack jokes around me because they are not welcome, and neither are your comments. From that point on, we are no longer friends. I don't want anything to do with you. What further frustrates me is both my aunt and my mother have this tendency to act like nothing happened.

About a month ago (from the present) my aunt calls and says hello and tells my mom that my brother and find I don't call her anymore. Let's get something straight. For one, we have NEVER called her to have a conversation with her. If we had ever called, it had to do with a conversation that needed to be had with my cousin. If we didn't call you before, then why the FUCK would I call you now?!  Number two, don't fucking say hello to me like there is nothing wrong between me and you. You ruined that fucking relationship about a month ago (when she outed me). My mom has the same problem. She continues to try and joke around with me and act like nothing happened. No. We don't have that relationship anymore. You don't care about how I feel, so by those odds, why do you care if I joke with you now? For two months, you had been rushing me and stressing me to tell him, so now we don't have that relationship anymore. If you have anything to talk to me about, you keep it short, sweet, and to the point. Other then that, stay the fuck away from me.

So that night, I ended up telling my dad, which if you have read my previous posts,  obviously did not turn out well. It was about a four and a half hour conversation of him basically telling me I am wrong for what I am feeling and him getting frustrated by the rebuttles that I had been making. I made it very clear at the beginning of the "conversation" that I did not want to influence him. I told him I don't want to make you change your mind or make you accept this, I'm just letting you know. By the fourth hour, I grew tired of his ignorance and decided to let him to talk out of his ass. But just when I thought that would be the end.

Two days from then, we have another conversation about the topic. In this "conversation," he agreed to allow me to ask questions that he would then answer, which in turn only frustrated me. By the end of this "conversation," he informed me that if I continued to see my boyfriend, he was going to call the cops. At this point, I was thoroughly disgusted. I didn't want anything to do with either of them. Everything that applied to one of them, pretty much applied to all of them. For almost three weeks, I hadn't said anything more to them than what they asked me.

I wanted to get even with them. I wanted to hurt them in a way that I would hope compare to the pain they bared on me, but it didn't even compare. What could possibly hurt more than being told that you are wrong, to break up with the love of your life, and to change you all in one hour? Especially by the people who are supposedly supposed to be your family and love you unconditionally, but that was not the case. I was blunt and very wort with them because I wanted them to realize that I was happy with what I was, and if they cannot accept that, then they couldn't see me. That happy go lucky guy that loves to laugh and shined brighter than the sun is proud of who he is and being gay is apart of that. All of my happiness and enthusiasm comes from my pride of me being who I am. If you take that away from me, then silence is what you get, because I refuse to hide me, but me can avoid you.

This did aggravate them, but only to mean another lecture on how being gay was wrong. My father proceeded to come up with more ignorant statements about what it meant to be gay, which I again refuted and again, ended in turmoil. What I got out of this conversation was that my method of staying silent and being blunt towards them was going to backfire. So I decided I'd just continue to be me and if they didn't like it, it was because I was gay. So what this meant was I could joke around with my mom again.

This created another problem for me. I didn't want to do that. I didn't want to have conversations again. I didn't want to let any of this go. How could I let up now? She'll think what she did is okay. She'll think it was just a phase that I just got over. I need her to know that that is not the case here.

I can't get passed that night. Those nights where she would constantly badger me of tell my mom, when she said she didn't care about how I felt and how she only cared about her own feelings, or how about when she didn't give my boyfriend the benefit of the doubt and allowed my father to make me break up with him. How could I ever just forgive that? Whenever I see her, all of that just comes back up, and no joke is able to repair that. For my father, the anger goes a little bit deeper.

My anger towards my father is a little bit different than my anger towards my mother. Me and my mother had a relationship that is now gone. So there I pain there from me. With my father, we already didn't have a great relationship, so all he was doing was pushing me further and further away. What aggravates me about them both is that they both insist that they know me, but if you look back, you really didn't, did you? My father whom has never had any part in my social life, now all of of a sudden wants to be apart of it because he thinks I'm corrupted because I'm gay. The only reason he would want to have conversations and talk now is because I'm gay. If I hadn't told him I was gay, he would have never wanted to have more conversations which in turn, would have left our relationship exactly where it is now: nowhere.

Who are you to tell me what's good for me? You don't even know me. You don't know what I like, my favorite color, or even my major. What makes you think you know what is going to make me happy? As a father, you can suggest, but you can't rule my life, and I don't intend to let you. What he is soon going to learn is that I was gay last year, I am gay this year. I was gay yesterday, and I am gay today. Chances are, I'm going to be gay tomorrow, and gay next year.

I don't know where exactly this entire situation will situate itself, but anywhere else has got to be considerably better than this now. As far as I know, this shit can't be pulled in the future. I will not stand for it. I will not hold myself back from certain things that will make me happy solely because they are ignorant and they do not agree. They have the opportunity to understand and accept this, or they can let me go and lose sight of what's really here. Yeah, we're family, but does family do this to each other? No. My real family accepts me for who I am in the hopes that I will be happy in the end. So let's just get one thing clear, I'm happy with who I am and where I am. If you don't like me, then we have nothing more to say to each other.

~Be Breezy~