That's My Purse!

I'm going to be honest. I don't fight. I can't fight. So if I get into it with another guy, hell yes I'm going to kick him in the nuts!

Let's be honest, if you're fighting, what is fighting fair going to get you? "Oh man, you got your ass stomped, but you fought with honor," or "You got the shit knocked out of you! But you did fight fair..." Like I said, I don't fight. If I get into a situation where I absolutely have to fight, I probably won't fight fair. I'll be remembered as the guy who kicked the other guy in the nuts.

There are some situations where I think honor lies above all, but in this situation, it doesn't. People don't always fight fair. If someone comes at me with a knife, I'm defending my life. A gun, well... If I can fight, I'll do what I can. There is such a thing as senseless fighting, but there are times when you'll actually have to defend yourself. No, getting a swift kick to the nuts wouldn't be pleasant, but getting beat up wouldn't be either.

I'm sorry guys, but I'm a talker and a lover, not a fighter. If it comes down to defending myself, I'm going to do what I can.

Starting Over

Classes are about to officially resume, for me anyway. I'm excited. I'm going to go strong and finish even stronger than I did last semester (one B, but I can do better).

I was perusing a blog, 37 Things to be exact, and I came across a post that mentioned the three words for a new year. I hadn't even thought of that. As I wondered what mine would be, I came to one almost instantly: Swagger. This year, I'm going to exercise my swagger and show everyone just what I've got. I'm going to exude confidence, attraction, and positive well-being. I'll show everyone that I got that mad swagga (so good, I don't even need to be grammatically correct).

My second word, which I found not too soon after, is Fresh. I want to smell fresh, look fresh (ignore the not shaving every now and then), and act fresh. Keep a clean (so to speak) and easy mind. I want to be the embodiment of the colors green and blue: green for fresh fauna, inexperience and youth with the chance and possibility of growth, blue for fluid water, going where God and the world take me, keeping cool and staying calm.

My last word is balance, and this is key. I want to keep balance between the Boo and the friends, keeping my time with everyone I love. Balancing my schedule with love for my family, staying in contact and never letting them forget that I love them. Balance between how I see myself and what I'm showing the world; I can't get too cocky now.

2009 is going to be a good year, and I'm going to keep these words in mind. What are your three?

Gay Elite

Ever since I came of age, I've noticed something about the gay community. As with any social demographic there exists the "elite." Around here, the gay elite is comprised of white males. I'm not usually the first to point out discrimination in anything, but in this situation it's kind of weird. You see pictures from parties or the club and it's the same over tan, pretty, made up white males (with a few exceptions: namely, a couple of unattractive people do make it into the mix, or you have your token asian or black man).

No, I would not consider myself part of a gay elite. In fact, I don't think I'd be happy if I was. The thing here, though, is that the word elite is applied from the outside, as I'm doing now. They may or may not consider themselves elite, but I choose that word because it seems like this exclusive club, a membership I had once wanted but had the good sense to never look after.

I just don't understand it. Is this an issue of race? Black gay boys seem to separate themselves, too, and gay men naturally seem to deny membership, sometimes without even trying, into various social contexts. Maybe it's birds of a feather; like minds and such. I just honestly do not know. I just know that a) it's unsettling and b) I see it everywhere.

I may consider myself attractive but I'm not elite and never will be. I don't belong on a pedestal above anyone else. So, I guess I'm not going to do the same to the pretty white boys with an exclusive membership into some arbitrary idea that has no relevance whatsoever.

They're not elite. They're just pretty, white, and gay. I guess that's it.

This Just In!

So, in the spirit of using the internet waaaay too much, I decided to find instances or examples of people who love dancing in their cars and I found this link:

http://www.37days.typepad.com/37days/2005/05/dance_in_your_c.html

It made so much sense. The author talked about her experience watching a mother and child dance in their car, about how much freedom and joy the woman exhibited. She went on to mention that sometimes when we judge, we open ourselves to judgment. Once we let go of the snide remarks and the negativity, we become free because that judgment matters not.

So, 37 days. I'm going to free myself from my undeserved and unfair judgment of others, thus enabling my own freedom. I'm going to dance in my car and not give a damn what Harry, Bobby, or Sue are wearing or doing.

37 days...

I've Been Waiting All Night...

"To see you dance like me"

I love to dance. A lot. Just not always in front of people. In a club, though usually with someone else, I can get down. And most of the time, I'm dancing in my car.

So, today, after I got off work, in Little Rock, so it would take me about half an hour to get home, I was getting DOWN. Like seriously, singing at the top of my lungs and busting some moves. Speaking of busted, I got caught, twice. Once by some girls whose attention I attracted on the highway and the latter when I got back and was in the parking lot. The second time, I was like "What the hell :)" and just waved, which prompted a confused and "What the hell o.O" look from one of the passengers. That being said, I really didn't care. Just in that mood.

I'm glad that happened because I needed desperately for something to blog about, and I found it.