A place for misfit words, with no real pairings, come to life here, in aesthetic justice through the energy of aries.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Over recent weeks, my classmates have grown to treat me more respectfully (see: like a human being), probably prompted by a school-wide diversity initiative. Even M., who has become as diligent of a harasser of me as his evil friend, seemed to tone down his antics. His evil friend, however, has, woefully expectedly, stayed true to his name. Several revelations have occurred to me during this period of more amiable relations: the most notable being that even as people treat me with more respect, I do not enjoy their presence more. In fact, I only dislike them slightly less; contempt can withstand much duress. I suppose Society and I just are not meant to be, as, really, if we were, the current conditions would foreshadow a relationship between it and me. Too different I suppose—my openness to experience to high, and everyone else’s is far too low. Sex does not faze me at all. Death does not faze me at all. Nothing really fazes me. Yet, when someone tears up, I tear up in return. Both Compassion and apathy run through me, in equal amounts, somehow managing to avoid (inevtiable?) collisions of their apparent contradiction. I always dream of being in love, fucking gender out the window—I learned recently that sex is not important, and people need to stop making themselves feel better about its inherently aggressive-submissive nature by saying that it’s “romantic.” It is not. A guy thinking, “Hey! I can have an orgasm of pleasure, and my girlfriend doesn’t mind it either, so no rape charges! Score!” is just not romantic. I just want to find a person, equally insane, to live with for the rest of my life, maybe to have children with, maybe to create a work of art with, maybe to devise a theory with. Hopefully, all three. I do not know, however, whether a person really exists. If they do, where can I find them? Are they readily available at the world’s top art institutions? They need to be either disenchanted with men or so desperate for a friend that decide to give up on the whole thing, and just dive into life (and love!) with a gay male, in addition to being insane, in the sense that they eschew normality with disgust, are eminently creative, and in the possession of an unearthly level of intelligence. Is that really too much to ask? Besides, if such a person as that exists, I really cannot see them not loving me.

Er…

Anyway, on a recent fieldtrip, my English teacher took notice of M. and his evil friend’s mistreatment of me, corroborating what she had been told of the matter by others. She immediately took both of them aside, and “yelled” (her words) at them for several minutes for treating me the way they do. My favorite excerpt:

“That is no way to treat another student, or any human being in general!”

Yay! I have finally been given passage through the golden gates of Humanity!—the one arena that I have been forbidden from entering for so long, but longed to enter! In (a playful) fact, whenever I would come across, in my studies of Feminism, the famous title of Sojourner Truth’s “Ain't I a Woman?” speech, I would laugh, “While she is fighting for her gender identity to be validated, I am still petitioning just to be allowed into Humanity!”

Always a drama queen. :)

As they received this berating, M. and his evil friend looked down shamefully at the ground like naughty schoolboys. Delicious.

Even more sadistically, there are these great pictures of M. and his evil friend wearing sullen countenances on Facebook just after being verbally whipped.

After the initial shock of being chastised for something that was overlooked for so long, M.’s evil friend took special pains to wait for me and the teacher to be in the same area, so he could show her that he took her lesson of tolerance to heart. He also (resigning sigh) took equally strenuous pains to show me that her words meant nothing when she was no longer near, singing (like the idiot he is), “G.L.A.Y. is a faggot! G.L.A.Y. is a faggot!”

How M. will respond is still to be determined. And, as only his actions really hurt, I am really beginning to wonder.

Ain’t I A Human?,

GIRL, LOOK AT YOU!!!

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