Nothing

I call myself nothing because religion nor atheism, often considered the two opposing poles in belief systems, can answer questions. Yet, I am scared to call myself 'Nothing' because people will force labels on me. They'll tell me I really believe in God, or that I'm not a real atheist, though this is the closest to what I am by choice.

I am nothing because I don't know how hate can exist and people can justify it with God and say that it is plan, though I respect and admire those whose faith remains strong in God, Allah, or whomever despite such pain, strife, and struggling among those who share our genus and species.

I am nothing because I choose to be nothing. I am quieter with no voices talking, with no searching but that which takes place in the journey I am willfully embarking on to improve my life and, by extension, improve the lives of others.

I am Nothing. Forever, I will tell you I am Nothing.

Nothing provides answers, and, even within its amorphous cloud, provides solace.

Landslide

Writing this as I fulfill my Research Assistant duties. I can't get it off my mind.

Last night's Glee featured Santana 'coming out' (I use quotes because Santana doesn't want to be labelled) to Brittany and expressing her love for her. She bared her soul and talked about her fear of what people would think about her if she and Brittany were together. How could that not hit home?

They sang the song 'Landslide' together, and whether you are a child of the Fleetwood Mac or Dixie Chicks version, it's still a beautiful song. For a long time, it's meant a lot to me, but I never knew why. So, maybe I'll give it meaning.

For one, it speaks to me because it talks about change. Sometimes I am okay with change. I, like John Mayer, and readily 'Waiting on the World to Change.' I want things to be better for me. I want to legally marry Z wherever the hell we are one day and have the same legal benefits. I also want the world to be better for others. I don't want my little sisters to fall into the gender socialization of girls and women because I hate it; I want them to be stronger, and I want to create a world that more readily and willingly enables girls and women to be strong. I want my transgender brothers and sisters (forgive me if concrete gender terms are not appropriate here) to have the same benefits as me, for it is a shame how we treat them. There are a lot of things I want.

However, this song carries another great importance: I was listening to it around the time I was dealing with my own sexual orientation. Living in the South with religious parents doesn't make an easy time for trying to deal with and accept your sexuality. I didn't know who to talk to or where to go. In some ways, I am still dealing with accepting my sexual orientation today. I feel like I cast the image that I'm comfortable with it and that I'm confident in it. Sometimes I am. But other times I'm still scared to talk about it with people I don't know, because I'm scared they may judge me. I've been scared of going to hell, and I've been scared of losing my parents, my friends and my family.

I have been scared of changing because I've built my life around different things. My family, my friends, and God at one point. For me, being gay brought a fear of what would happen to me. What would I lose?

This song has always brought out some pretty strong emotions for me, and I'm not always sure why. The aforementioned things could be it, or it could be something nameless and ambiguous, but still powerful. The thoughts and feelings above just happen to relate.

I think, maybe, a Landslide has already happened. I'm not sure if I've re-invented myself, grown, or both. I can say that I'm in a much better place, and I want to try to create a space that is even better in the future. Change is sometimes a very scary thing for me, and the anxiety that comes from changing is something worth conquering rather than trying to escape.