Different (and not afraid to admit it)

She was a model student and a star athlete – an honest young woman in her final year at a private Christian high school, The Master’s School, in Connecticut.

But when school administrators asked her about her sexual orientation, she answered courageously and honestly that she is a lesbian.

And then those same administrators told her to withdraw or she would be kicked out.

When I read this, I wondered to myself, “Why are school administrators asking about their students’ sexual orientation in the first place?” When you think about it, that sort of question is not only unnecessary, but also unimportant. They should be worrying more about the well-being of the students at the school, not about their sexual orientation. If a school administrator asked me that question, honestly, I would have refused to answer. I would be like, “I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

I’m reading an article on the whole fiasco as I’m writing this. The school’s motto is “Veritas Vos Liberabit”, which translates to “The truth will set you free.” Well, while I would have done something else if I were in her shoes, she was being honest about her sexual orientation (which is always a good thing), but apparently it was a bitter pill for the school administrators to swallow. In the end she chose to withdraw (I probably would have, too) because she didn’t want the school to look bad, but this was a wise choice on her part because who would want to go to a school where you may face emotional abuse just because of your sexual orientation? No one, obviously.

My overall take on this? I think she acted honourably and gracefully. As for the school, they just lost an amazing student and student athlete just because of bigotry, and I am sure that this will bite them back in the butt. Actions do have consequences. And in a place like that, I doubt I would bother to be honest with those administrators anyway. 

Sexual orientation does NOT define a person’s personality; well, it may, sometimes, but not most of the time. If I came across this girl and wasn’t told about her sexual orientation, most likely I would have liked and respected her as a person, and even if someone mentioned it I still would have liked and respected her. It doesn’t matter. 

Apparently she was questioned because an incident where she went on a class trip with several other students and they pretended to be married and pretty much held hands. But holding hands isn’t unusual for same-sex friends at the school, and it seemed pretty harmless. 

A few links to the story are below, if you want to read up on it:

http://www.ctnow.com/news/hc-campbell-rachel-0907-20110907,0,2185421.column

http://thenewcivilrightsmovement.com/connecticut-christian-school-kicks-12th-grader-out-for-being-a-lesbian/discrimination/2011/09/08/26618

So I went to the DMV yesterday morning…early, that is, I wasn’t about to take a huge chance of having to wait hours. And as it turned out, I didn’t have to wait that long, because it wasn’t that busy, at least when I got there. What happened was, I checked in, showed them what I needed to show them, waited for my number to be called, got called, then waited in line, got to a counter, took a vision test, and took my driving test. I did better than I thought I would do on the driving test, though I was shaking for a bit during it all. Everything went okay, which is always a great thing.

Starting yesterday, I am officially a licenced driver, and after years of having a learners permit (don’t ask, lol), this accomplishment is a big deal. Of course, I have to go on my dad’s car insurance now, which can be considered a financial downside, but other than that, I am really happy about now having my licence. It is time, when you really think about it. But things happen when they are meant to happen.

That said, I’m not too sure whether or not this begins a new chapter in my life. Traditionally, something huge, maybe dramatic, and profound is supposed to inaugurate a new chapter (or more) in someone’s life. I guess that if I feel somewhat grown up about now having earned the privilege to drive, that could be considered profound and huge. 

In other news, I’ve officially come up with the name for my latest story: The Doll. It makes sense, because, well…I can’t spill too much yet since I am still writing it and technically not done yet, and plus, at least to me, it looks too good to spoil. So I’ll wait until it’s about finished. Of course, there are still some edits that do need to be made, obviously.

Venturing further into the world of short stories, I worked a bit more on mine today shortly after posting again to my thread on the Writers Magazine forum. After twenty something views someone finally posted a comment…but not the kind I was expecting:

“I’d like to see more before I comment.”

Well, that is fine. But then again, the person who said this should have waited until I posted more. And I did post more, warning whoever comes across my thread that that is all I have done so far. Well up to that point, anyway, I’ve written a bit more since posting.

But being honest, the forum on the Writers Magazine is really quite slow. I used to post to writing communities before, like FictionPost (I think that’s the name, anyway), and even that community was far more active than the one on Writers Magazine. I saw other posts there that had 40-something views and zero comments. Which I guess are worse than mine. Not saying my writing is bad, at least.

I think I’m going to make my way back to FictionPost and resume posting stuff on there. I would get better critiques, and also, I wouldn’t get comments like, “Post more, I need to see more before I comment.” Well, this story I am writing currently is a short story, and I did post the beginning of it. Of course you would have to see more before making a solid critique of my work. Next time on the Writers forum, I should post every single chapter I’ve done for one of my WIP novels and see how they will critique them. Because they are long…

So, in other news, it looks like I might be taking my driving test for the Class E licence tomorrow…when I’m not sure because I’m going in as a walk-in. We’ll see how that goes…I’m not always so patient. I’m nervous, but I also feel very much ready. Here goes!

I should know.

For the past few days I’ve been brainstorming (or trying to brainstorm) possible ideas for short stories, but the ideas I came up with are more appropriate for either novels or novellas, therefore not leaving any for short stories at all.

I have to admit, writing short stories is the bane of my existence as a (future) writer. I’m perfectly fine with novels, poetry, and even novellas (I’m starting to realise) but short stories are a whole different story, no pun intended. It seems like the literary ideas I come up with would drag on longer than a short story is typically supposed to be, which is like 10,000 words, I think. Not that that is a bad thing, novels do allow things to develop at a more or less steady pace than short stories, which I guess is one reason that I’ve never written much in the first place. 

Short stories are seen as a middle ground for writers but unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately?) I seem to lack that “middle ground”. It’s either novels and/or poetry and there is nothing between the two, not even what they call “flash fiction”. Yesterday I went on Google and decided to hunt up all the short story writing help I could find. I found TONS, but what was the best help was actually reading short stories. There is this great website, East of the Web, that has a whole lot of fiction, and I highly suggest it to anyone that has trouble coming up with something to write, or just anyone who loves to read fiction, basically. There is mostly something for everyone there. But anyway, I went onto that site and read the most short stories I could, and I think it really helped. Why? Because I just started a short story of my own last night. Amazing, isn’t it? After days of trying to figure this whole thing out I actually managed to pick it apart and accomplished it yesterday. I won’t say what the story is about but it is turning out to be quite interesting. At least, for me.

But I’m not too proud of myself yet, because it is only one story, and I have yet to learn all that I can about writing short stories. So, I’m still trying to establish my “middle ground” as a writer.

This was a short post, but there isn’t too much one can say about having the apparently inability to establish a writer’s “middle ground”. 

Let’s just say, yesterday was a very, very dramatic day. I even broke out the remaining wine I had stashed away in a Rue La La box, that’s how bad it was. (And guzzled it down straight from the bottle, no glasses were even used.)

By now, if you’ve been keeping track of my posts on here (or most of them), you probably think that I am a very melodramatic person, with nothing happy to report. Well, that is true…but only somewhat. Truth be told, I have bad days, then good days, then bad days. One day I’ll be happy as a clam, and the other…well, I’ll just say I’m emotionally fucked up. It’s like a merry-go-round sometimes. So much so at times, that I’ve come to the self-made conclusion that I suffer from depression.

Of course, I am not a certified therapist, psychologist, or psychiatrist, but having majored in Psychology (oh, the irony) I am more than familiar with the warning signs and red flags of depression. To be more accurate, I would say that depression has afflicted me for quite a few years, even before I started college. It all started with my best friend. We went to school together, up until the time it came for us to go off to university. As we survived the years of high school together, I noticed that guys were more attracted to her than to me, and whenever she started dating someone, she would be off like a pop, focusing totally on that one guy and not so much on her friends. You know. But anyway, her success in the dating world (or rather, high school dating world) made me quite insecure and jealous. I started to think I wasn’t good enough, let alone attractive enough for anyone. I felt I wasn’t attention-inducing, and it all aggravated me, as you can imagine. 

That probably doesn’t sound shocking enough. By now you are probably saying or thinking, “Every schoolgirl goes through that period of uncertainty, that story isn’t exactly special enough.” Well, I think it is certainly a special case, as it ebbed swiftly into depression. I genuinely began to feel insecure about myself and I slowly started to develop poor body image, although that wouldn’t actually attack me until years later. I would be in college when that happened.

Once I graduated from high school and began attending university, I started to starve myself. It wasn’t deliberate at first…whenever I had classes all day, I would forget about eating lunch due to money. Or, I would not be interested in eating midday at all. It was usually either one of those. If my parents (especially my mother) asked what I ate that day, I would just say, “Salad.” Of course, this process was gradual, as there would be times that I would actually eat something. Also, my depression was evolving. In high school I lamented about not getting a boyfriend, but my beginnings in college were marked by getting cut at sorority rush (or recruitment I should say), as well as a slight falling out with one of my friends from high school. So, it is safe to assume that all those things made things even more unstable. I did manage to get over the sorority rush stuff though, but it took quite a while. And as for the falling out with my friend that was short lived, we resumed hanging out after the fall semester began. A bit too much I might add as my grades did suffer a little.

As the semesters waned on I found that whenever I was upset, I did not like to eat at all. You know how there are people who eat because they’re upset? Well, I was definitely not one of those people, because I absolutely loathed eating whenever I was upset, or say, depressed. I even didn’t eat that much last night, it was all forced if I did. Also, being single got under my skin again, as well as dealing with guys who did not really care for me in the long run. I think that really hurt the most than being single. I also dealt with people who turned out to be fake (that sort of thing comes with being in a sorority, I probably should have disowned her by now), the stress that is usually affiliated with grad school, and just feeling inadequate, insecure, and sometimes even jealous. All in all, my depression was still there. There was enough to fuel the fire. 

You’re probably asking, “Why didn’t you get help?” Well, I did go to counseling, quite a lot, I might add. I was even prescribed anti-depressants, which one of my friends said was good for me, because I did appear to be more cheerful. I mean, actually cheerful. That usually doesn’t happen. The counseling did help quite a bit, I am not going to lie about that, and it was in a counseling session that I finally admitted I had an eating disorder. Or disordered eating. It is pretty much the same thing. Plus, the counseling was free to students, which was why I considered it. No way in hell I was going to pay like $50 per session.

College ended, and for starting off on the wrong foot, academic wise, things actually turned out nicely, as I wound up being on the Dean’s List twice in a row (basically my whole senior year), and even got a decent Psychology GPA. But my mental health was far from healed, and now, things aren’t that different. Since my dad’s stroke, I think that my mental health has been even more exacerbated. I still feel worthless at times, at times I wind up getting really jealous of most (but not all) people I know who are married or engaged, I have a strong fear of getting fat, and one can say I am a perfectionist. I also have problems with anxiety. And socially, it is hard to be not a wallflower when you are worried what others may think of you. Also, my family is also to blame. I love them all, but there have been times when they have been less than helpful. I remember when I was still in college, my dad actually said to me, “You’re making everyone depressed when you’re depressed.” Well, thanks, Dad. (How about getting me help, if you’re really so depressed?) And this whole stroke thing? I have been suffering from depression for years, but then he gets this stroke, and all of a sudden it’s like everyone is paying attention to him. While in all my years of dealing with low self-esteem and feeling worthless, I have gotten less than the amount of attention he is getting, and it burns me up to be honest. I know that strokes are a BIG deal, and they can disable you, but depression is just as evil and horrible as strokes are. Not everyone sees that though, unfortunately. So I find that not discussing my problems so much, especially to family, is better than discussing it at all. I guess my dad’s comment got to me after all. I put on this fake smile and pretend like nothing is going on, when in fact the opposite is true.

So, that is my story. Last night was really bad, and I don’t think it made my mental health better. The drinking, too. I forgot to add…about the starving myself bit, I have to say that my family had something to do with it too. I remember my mum (she still kind of does this sometimes) watching as I ate sugary stuff and crap like that and her saying, “You’re going to get fat.” No lie.

I copied and pasted this from the Lauren Conrad site. And yes, it’s all my handiwork. I also added some stuff.

1. Favorite TV show? I haven’t watched too much television in a while…but I’ve found that watching The Office tends to chill me out, especially after a hard day.
2. Song I can’t stop listening to is…  Pumped Up Kicks by Foster the People.
3. Red or nude lips? It depends, really.
4. Facebook or Twitter? Either…I like to check in and see how everyone else is doing (especially if I’m busy) and also like to write a very short note now and then.
5. Gold or silver? I’m a fan of Tiffany…so sterling silver.
6. Favorite fashion designer? (or clothing line)  LC by Lauren Conrad and Jack Wills for my always existing British fix.
7. Any recent travels?  The most recent trip I took was to Aruba…not my first choice. I’m planning to go back to London later this year.
8. Makeup you can’t live without?  Does lip balm count?
9. Favorite childhood TV show? Sailor Moon and Pokemon, hah.
10. Straight, curly or wavy hair? Straight. 
11. What were you doing a year ago from now? Starting my current job. 
12. If you could live in any era, what would it be? The 1960s.
13. Where are you from? Bronx, New York.
14. Favorite food? Chocolate!
15. Makeup or fashion?  Both.
16. Movie you saw most recently? Captain America…not too bad.
17. Nickname? My mum used to call me Pumpkin.
18. I’m secretly terrified of… Gaining weight and spiders. Also, failure. I admit it.
19. Heels or flats? Depends.
20. Favorite blog on LaurenConrad.com so far? Anything relating to beauty and fashion.

So shit hit the fan today…in the form of driving lessons. Who knew that driving lessons could cause so much emotional abuse?

Apparently I did not know that, until this morning. 

When I first scheduled my driving lessons with the Florida Safety Council, they specifically told me that they would reschedule today’s lesson from 8:00 to 10:30 this morning. (As a side note, it’s now 12:26…three minutes before my supposedly scheduled lesson was supposed to end.) But I doubt they even got the memo, because I got two calls from them approximately after eight, which leads me to the conclusion of…yeah. And by the way…the stuff I got from them still mentioned the original 8:00 time slot.

Before you ask, “Did you even call them back?” I just want to say I did. In fact I called them back several times, even leaving three effing messages. Apparently they are closed on Sundays as well as Saturdays. But they have classes seven days a week. My half sister was waiting with me, and even she had to leave messages. We waited from 10:30 to 11:00, and after that decided to leave the place, but not before leaving a handwritten note. We headed for home, and I was musing (reluctantly) over and over about the $80 they would probably wind up charging on my credit card because I supposedly missed a class. But the thing is…I didn’t. If anything, this shit goes on their tab because they were the ones who rescheduled my time slot today, not me. If I wanted to reschedule I’d have to call them 48 hours in advance. Not that I would, anyway, unless there were extenuating circumstances.

Once we stepped foot in my house we informed my parents of what exactly was going on and decided to email them. Well, I did, since I am the only one who has a Knightsmail address (that is the email that the FSC has on my records, at least I think they do), and printed out a copy for my records just in case…because you never really know. 

I’m rather sore about the whole matter. I don’t know about you, but I definitely am sure that I would not want to be charged an effing $80 that I do not deserve to be charged. Especially as I am on a leave of absence from work, and paychecks are streaming in slowly. (I’m hoping to get off leave by the end of this month for obvious reasons.) Though I got pretty lucky with my most recent paycheck, that should hold me over for a while. 

I told myself while we were congregated together here, in a shared feeling of dislike and frustration (hah), that “I will be blogging.” And I am, right now! Nothing feels just as good when you’re ranting (constructively, of course) on your own blog. :D

Apparently so, or I would not be looking up “being single” on effing Google right now.

Okay, so I am well aware and firmly believe (I know I’ve probably said it before) that when you least expect it, stuff is going to happen. And that includes dating, finding employment, and as I’ve realised over the past few days…future academic plans. LOL. But there are times when I will fall into a mental, emotional rut because I’m either not in a relationship (and others around me are), looking in the vast ocean that is the job market and not finding anything, not getting into a grad school, or two or more of the above. 

But nowadays, I’m not as bad off as I used to be. I am more comfortable with being single (most of the time), rethinking the grad schools and programmes I am interested in, and technically have a job. So in essence, everything, or at least most everything, is just fine and dandy. 

Except in those circumstances when I’m PMSing or just plain depressed. Like…now.

Damn!

I absolutely, absolutely hate it when I get like this. I cannot say that enough. It’s like…one day I’m gallivating around, singing about how I like being single and not having to rely (or worse, be smothered or insulted) by a guy, and the next day start bawling internally and externally. It really is a pain in the effing ass, and because of it I want to get a pistol and kill myself, war criminal style*. Well, by thinking like that, I am being a criminal…to my mind. Like Criminal Minds! (I really could not resist…LOL)

For some reason, I decided to Google “being single” and somehow that innocent search morphed into a “tired of being single” Google search instead, which I think aggravated the situation. All thanks to this, I’m now stuck feeling inadequate and insecure because I’m not in a relationship, engaged, or even married. You know what, I should send a copy of this post to my church, then they would realise that at times I loathe (well, not really, it’s more like dislike) being the only woman under 25 who is not in a relationship, engaged, or married. Or even expecting, for that matter.

But this “being single” search made me feel confident, at least for a bit if not completely. I don’t have to worry about children (except when I’m babysitting obviously), having to find the perfect wedding dress (mine is already designed, thank you very much!), and possibly coming off as weird or strange when actually dating someone. Also, I don’t have to deal with all that “why don’t you get a boob job” crap. And the next time some guy says that? They’re getting burned alive. (Well, not really, but I’ll probably threaten to cut their eyes out.) The “being single” search uplifted me because 1) it reminded me that I won’t be dying anytime soon, 2) possibly become fat, which is one of my nightmares, and 3) I can still live happily ever after without a significant other, yes.

For the rest of the day, I refuse to cry over being single. Though, to be honest, I’m probably PMSing right now and that “tired of being single” search was its gift to me. PMS really does stuff to you.

Also…fate and God better know what they’re doing. Although I’m sure they probably do already.

*Well, without the cyanide capsule, I imagine it would taste rather disgusting. And also? Where would you get those things, anyway?

According to myUCF, anyway.

A few nights ago one of my friends needed to know what the course prefix was for Abnormal Psychology, so I decided to take a little trip to myUCF (where I hadn’t logged on in quite a while) and look those up for him. I did find them, but after finding out that myUCF replaced my undergrad audit with the one for the Human Factors track graduate programme. That sounds like really fantastic news, no?

Well, actually, the story goes more like this…

A while ago I did apply to this particular programme, but my application got rejected. So I really have no idea on why myUCF would confuse things and switch out my undergrad audit for a graduate track programme that I didn’t even get accepted to in the first place. Of course, I realise that they probably did it when I applied to the program but still…yeah. And I am still looking desperately for my undergrad degree audit. Fortunately I had the good sense to print out a complete copy after graduation but I would still like to still be able to access it online, you know?

I posted this particular predicament on Facebook and apparently most everyone thought I had gotten accepted to grad school. While I am grateful and thankful for their praise in cheese, they simply misunderstood the whole thing. I have received about three comments*, one message, and many “likes” on this status update, and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve face palmed myself. Hah.

But after thinking about this situation another way, maybe this is a sign. Who the hell knows, really. Right now I am vacillating between laughing, being proud despite the whole thing, and of course, face palming. It’s like, “Yay! I’m officially a graduate student now! But wait…I don’t recall getting in.” Damn. But at least I am taking this in stride and definitely not bemoaning the situation. Because, in a way, it is pretty funny. In any case, this is one UCF mistake that I can actually laugh at because it is surreal. 

And again, to everyone who has liked my UCF status update or commented it up to now, I really, really do appreciate your congratulations and such but save it for the day I really do get a graduate degree in something. :)

*Some of these comments have to do with how my dad is doing, though, so more or less they are totally irrelevant to the status update itself.