So I read Ren Ev's blog. I read it. I liked what I saw. I linked it as one of my Mighty Good Links. (Warning! That link is not worksafe. Not kidsafe. Click at your own risk!)
Because it's worth the read. Pro-porn, anti-porn, all for sex work, all against it, or just plain interested in what she has to say.
I love her entries on feminism, and "feminist" choices, and whether sex work (which encompasses everything from street-level prostitution to erotic massage) is a "feminist" choice and why the hell should it matter if a choice that a woman makes is "feminist".
So I stewed. I thought. I put on some Dir en Grey, then switched over to AnCafe, and over to JAM Project, then Ali Project, and stewed and thought some more. And then it came to me as I was walking the half-block from Subway to my house, that even if I rail against fundamentalism of the religious sort here, that not all fundies are created equal. Not all fundamentalist leanings come from a given religious thought. It can be anything. And I find that the anti-porn Radical Feminist circles are not unlike the religious fundamentalist bullshit I was fortunate to get out of alive.
Sure, Radical Feminism has no literal God or single Holy Text, but it does have its dogmas, its own code of conduct, its own system of separating the "sheep" (those who line up with the agenda) and the "goats" (everyone else).
And I thought about this some more. Stewed. Thought some more. Played some Super Mario World. Thought even more on the idea of "feminist" choices. What makes a choice "feminist" or not should not matter as long as that woman is happy and fulfilled while doing it.
Are there unhappy women who are lawyers or businesswomen? I don't doubt it. Are there women who feel forced to be housewives? Of course. I wouldn't deny that there are women who feel like they're trapped in the kitchen. And are there people involved in sex work who are sad/miserable/wanting to get the hell out/needing to do drugs just to make it through the day? Again, I don't doubt that there are.
But are there women who go out and work high-stress jobs, or stay at home with housework and kids, and are happy and feel fulfilled by it?
I don't doubt that either. As I do not doubt that anyone who does anything remotely sexual and gets paid for it do not get any satisfaction from doing their choice of profession.
It's called job satisfaction, got it memorized? And any and every woman should be left the fuck alone about whether their choice of job, dress, or behavior is a "feminist" one. The very notion of what makes a given woman's choice a "feminist" one or not is just a heaping pile of bullshit that Hercules himself would find himself shoveling wh-ee-ee-ll into the end of Infinity.
You know, if you replaced "feminist choice" with "Christian choice", you'd get what was drilled into my head since I was five. Same shit, same pressure. Same shame-n'-blame-fest, same Possible Guilt if you didn't line up, different ideology. It's all the same deal, just in different packaging.
And that pisses me off a ton, 'cause usually, Radical Feminists and Christian fundies get along like oil and water up till you talk about that pesky sexuality of the wimmenz.
Then they're all buddy-buddy OTP shiny shiny whee!
*head-to-wall impact*
The link above explains it far better than I can.
~Jordi
(BGM "Ningyo Hime" by Tanaka Rie)
Friday, September 5, 2008
Thursday, September 4, 2008
My Place in This World and a Word on Politics...Also Nudity!
There is no place for anyone like me in Pentecostalism, for all the pretty female pastors they stand up in front of the Black Pentecostal denominations, for all the pretty pastors' wives who lead women's Bible studies in other places within Pentecostalism, there's no fucking place for me.
In fact, there's no place for me in a lot of places. I gave up on Pentecostalism when I was sixteen. I came out to myself three years before. And now I wonder if there's any place in the great big stupid world for someone like me, who is now picking up the pieces of what Pentecost has left behind. But I know that I'm not alone. There are ex-Pentecostals who might be gay/bi/trans/so much in between. There are ex-Pentecostals who are women. There are ex-Pentecostals of color. And there just might be some people who are all of the above.
Thing is, there is no fucking place within Pentecostalism for anyone who doesn't think in lock-step next to everyone else. There's no place for individuals, even with all the "creativity" they want to toss about. As long as they can use you, they'll keep you around and pretend that they're applauding your creativity, as long as your art lines up with their agenda. Once it stops, then they'll toss you aside.
That's how Pentecostalism works. Either you're in or you're out, and your salvation's the bargaining chip.
And now a Word on Politics
Yeah, the elections are going on and the Democratic National Convention has just stopped, with the Republican National Convention still going on. I have never been been big on politics as a whole, so unless I find it relevant, it won't touch this blog. Because frankly, everyone else in the blogosphere can write on it far better than I can, and actually kinda care. Call it voter apathy. Actually, I just didn't want a political blog, so, unless I deem it especially relevant, my blog won't have extensive Thoughts On Politics.
And Naked Time!
For anyone reading this blog, a tiny challenge. Go into your bedroom, or your bathroom, or even your attic studio, stand in front of a fairly large mirror and look at yourself naked. If you live with people that you are not fucking (like roommates or family members), then do so with the door closed. Also, with the lights on. Do it without pointing out the flaws, and focus on the good stuff, even the stuff that only you think is good about your body.
You'll feel good about it later.
~Jordi
In fact, there's no place for me in a lot of places. I gave up on Pentecostalism when I was sixteen. I came out to myself three years before. And now I wonder if there's any place in the great big stupid world for someone like me, who is now picking up the pieces of what Pentecost has left behind. But I know that I'm not alone. There are ex-Pentecostals who might be gay/bi/trans/so much in between. There are ex-Pentecostals who are women. There are ex-Pentecostals of color. And there just might be some people who are all of the above.
Thing is, there is no fucking place within Pentecostalism for anyone who doesn't think in lock-step next to everyone else. There's no place for individuals, even with all the "creativity" they want to toss about. As long as they can use you, they'll keep you around and pretend that they're applauding your creativity, as long as your art lines up with their agenda. Once it stops, then they'll toss you aside.
That's how Pentecostalism works. Either you're in or you're out, and your salvation's the bargaining chip.
And now a Word on Politics
Yeah, the elections are going on and the Democratic National Convention has just stopped, with the Republican National Convention still going on. I have never been been big on politics as a whole, so unless I find it relevant, it won't touch this blog. Because frankly, everyone else in the blogosphere can write on it far better than I can, and actually kinda care. Call it voter apathy. Actually, I just didn't want a political blog, so, unless I deem it especially relevant, my blog won't have extensive Thoughts On Politics.
And Naked Time!
For anyone reading this blog, a tiny challenge. Go into your bedroom, or your bathroom, or even your attic studio, stand in front of a fairly large mirror and look at yourself naked. If you live with people that you are not fucking (like roommates or family members), then do so with the door closed. Also, with the lights on. Do it without pointing out the flaws, and focus on the good stuff, even the stuff that only you think is good about your body.
You'll feel good about it later.
~Jordi
Fear of Choice: An essay in Three Parts (1 of 3): Accountability
Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the first part of the three-part series on Fear of Choice in Pentecostalism. In this part, I'll be examining the idea that part of this fear and hatred of the concept of choice comes, in part, from a desire to be free from accountability from their actions, and the ramifications of such actions. This is partially about the Pentecostal warping of the word "accountability" as well.
To understand how the word "accountability" got twisted so badly, let's take a look at what the word actually means.
This is one of the biggest problems I have with the whole Pentecostal doctrine. This lack of accountability in its true sense gives people who adhere to this doctrine carte blanche to say and do whatever they like under the impression that God will forgive them for what they do. As a result, you have all sorts of abuses that often go ignored, if not made worse by people who believe that God allows, if not causes bad things to happen.
And if they have that, they have no obligation to give a rat's ass about anyone other than themselves and their family, if their family even counts to them at all.
Now for why the whole idea that we as humans are actually capable of choosing to be kind or cruel, that scares Pentecostals half to death. If they can't have their Divine and Infernal puppet masters, then they'd have to own up to the fact that they're being a bunch of asshats who can barely fucking control themselves. By that same token, they'd have to give themselves some credit--without all of the fake-modest bullshit that Pentecostals in general just love playing at.
Who hasn't heard any variation of one of the following phrases before?
Ladies and gentlemen, I know that this sounds like an exaggeration, but you have to remember this:
I lived among them for longer than I can remember. I talked like them, using, yes, several variations of the phrases above. And yes, there was a time that I took these beliefs to heart, even thinking that I could care very little about those "filthy dirty sinners" because God was going to instantly vaporize my body and my soul would be up in Heaven, while everyone else suffered on this dying Earth for seven years, followed by an eternity in Hell.
This is what I mean by a lack of accountability in Pentecostal Land. They refuse to take the blame for their horrible actions, and extend that to refusing to take credit for their great ones. They automatically give the credit to God, the blame to Satan, and act as if they have no say in what they do or think.
That's a scary thing if one actually thinks about the idea that they have no control over their actions, that they're being directly manipulated by deities who think that it'd be fun to dick around with the human race, but to the Pentecostal mind, addled with the lingo and the mantra, it's more frightening to think that they have so much control that God does not really exist.
(Stay tuned for Part Two!)
~Jordi
To understand how the word "accountability" got twisted so badly, let's take a look at what the word actually means.
ac·count·abil·i·ty
Pronunciation: \ə-ˌkau̇n-tə-ˈbi-lə-tē\
Function: noun
: the quality or state of being accountable; especially an obligation or willingness to accept responsibility or to account for one's actions
This is one of the biggest problems I have with the whole Pentecostal doctrine. This lack of accountability in its true sense gives people who adhere to this doctrine carte blanche to say and do whatever they like under the impression that God will forgive them for what they do. As a result, you have all sorts of abuses that often go ignored, if not made worse by people who believe that God allows, if not causes bad things to happen.
And if they have that, they have no obligation to give a rat's ass about anyone other than themselves and their family, if their family even counts to them at all.
Now for why the whole idea that we as humans are actually capable of choosing to be kind or cruel, that scares Pentecostals half to death. If they can't have their Divine and Infernal puppet masters, then they'd have to own up to the fact that they're being a bunch of asshats who can barely fucking control themselves. By that same token, they'd have to give themselves some credit--without all of the fake-modest bullshit that Pentecostals in general just love playing at.
Who hasn't heard any variation of one of the following phrases before?
"It's not me. All the glory goes to God above! Amen, hallelujah! Praise the Lord!"
"Oh, Satan's tryin' to get a foothold! I almost slipped off the path this week!"
Ladies and gentlemen, I know that this sounds like an exaggeration, but you have to remember this:
I lived among them for longer than I can remember. I talked like them, using, yes, several variations of the phrases above. And yes, there was a time that I took these beliefs to heart, even thinking that I could care very little about those "filthy dirty sinners" because God was going to instantly vaporize my body and my soul would be up in Heaven, while everyone else suffered on this dying Earth for seven years, followed by an eternity in Hell.
This is what I mean by a lack of accountability in Pentecostal Land. They refuse to take the blame for their horrible actions, and extend that to refusing to take credit for their great ones. They automatically give the credit to God, the blame to Satan, and act as if they have no say in what they do or think.
That's a scary thing if one actually thinks about the idea that they have no control over their actions, that they're being directly manipulated by deities who think that it'd be fun to dick around with the human race, but to the Pentecostal mind, addled with the lingo and the mantra, it's more frightening to think that they have so much control that God does not really exist.
(Stay tuned for Part Two!)
~Jordi
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
The Day I Tried To Live
It's time for another post that has a song title as the headline.
I'll get the Fear of Choice essay done eventually. I spent some time mulling over what my mom said about the election and how the End is Near and stuff, and it took me back to the day I stopped believing the hype. The day I stopped believing in the Pentecostal hype that one day, God will instantly vaporize a third of the population and whisk the lot to a shiny new Earth after we've trashed this one enough for the Tribulation and the Antichrist to come.
I thought about the day I just stopped believing, and everything that led to it.
I recalled telling my mother, when I was twelve, that she couldn't carry the childrens' ministry all by herself. Ten years later, truer words were never spoken. I remember that the most fucking miserable times I had were when I was most "into" it, because I had to appear as happy as possible, despite everything falling the fuck apart at home 'cause Mom and Dad dragged us to church and paraded my siblings and me around like we were the perfect model family.
Meanwhile, I was self-injuring just to feel something other than the blissed-out numbness that only Pentecostalism could deliver. I'm grateful that I haven't gotten into drugs and wild random sexual encounters to feel real, but from twelve to sixteen, I went from poking myself with safety pins to heating scissors and branding myself with them.
I remember asking once, "If God was real, then why do wars happen? Why do the good, Godly parents wind up being the ones who beat their kids to death? Why does nobody truly care about anyone anymore?"
I never got an answer about that.
And so I started thinking. If God was real, He was either an impotent deity or a cruel deity. If God was not real, then what could I have done with those twelve wasted years? I wondered that if the Bible was telling the truth as opposed to being a book of fables, then why is it that when it says that those who rely on God will have plenty, yet my parents can only afford groceries once or twice a month because they're dumping everything into the church? Or if God is supposed to be all that I needed, then why, even when I was in the Fake-It-To-Make-It stage, did I feel so alone? If God's supposed to be this kind deity that loves us all, why do I read stories in the Old Testament that show God picking on people because he can?
I stopped believing when I saw that all the promises of Great and Awesome things to come never came true.
My family still lives in a shitty broken house. Families in the church are completely fucking broken as opposed to being stronger than ever. None of the Great Awakenings have happened ever. Sure, the world is an ugly place right now, but I don't wish I could leave it anymore. I'm done with the whole idea that all our problems, in my house, in this country, in this world, can be zapped away instantly by some miracle.
When I realized that, I questioned the Rapture. When I did some digging, I stopped believing entirely.
~Jordi~
(BGM: "Virtual Insanity" by Jamiroquai ...how fitting.)
I'll get the Fear of Choice essay done eventually. I spent some time mulling over what my mom said about the election and how the End is Near and stuff, and it took me back to the day I stopped believing the hype. The day I stopped believing in the Pentecostal hype that one day, God will instantly vaporize a third of the population and whisk the lot to a shiny new Earth after we've trashed this one enough for the Tribulation and the Antichrist to come.
I thought about the day I just stopped believing, and everything that led to it.
I recalled telling my mother, when I was twelve, that she couldn't carry the childrens' ministry all by herself. Ten years later, truer words were never spoken. I remember that the most fucking miserable times I had were when I was most "into" it, because I had to appear as happy as possible, despite everything falling the fuck apart at home 'cause Mom and Dad dragged us to church and paraded my siblings and me around like we were the perfect model family.
Meanwhile, I was self-injuring just to feel something other than the blissed-out numbness that only Pentecostalism could deliver. I'm grateful that I haven't gotten into drugs and wild random sexual encounters to feel real, but from twelve to sixteen, I went from poking myself with safety pins to heating scissors and branding myself with them.
I remember asking once, "If God was real, then why do wars happen? Why do the good, Godly parents wind up being the ones who beat their kids to death? Why does nobody truly care about anyone anymore?"
I never got an answer about that.
And so I started thinking. If God was real, He was either an impotent deity or a cruel deity. If God was not real, then what could I have done with those twelve wasted years? I wondered that if the Bible was telling the truth as opposed to being a book of fables, then why is it that when it says that those who rely on God will have plenty, yet my parents can only afford groceries once or twice a month because they're dumping everything into the church? Or if God is supposed to be all that I needed, then why, even when I was in the Fake-It-To-Make-It stage, did I feel so alone? If God's supposed to be this kind deity that loves us all, why do I read stories in the Old Testament that show God picking on people because he can?
I stopped believing when I saw that all the promises of Great and Awesome things to come never came true.
My family still lives in a shitty broken house. Families in the church are completely fucking broken as opposed to being stronger than ever. None of the Great Awakenings have happened ever. Sure, the world is an ugly place right now, but I don't wish I could leave it anymore. I'm done with the whole idea that all our problems, in my house, in this country, in this world, can be zapped away instantly by some miracle.
When I realized that, I questioned the Rapture. When I did some digging, I stopped believing entirely.
~Jordi~
(BGM: "Virtual Insanity" by Jamiroquai ...how fitting.)
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Fear of Choice: An essay in Three Parts (intro)
No, it's not abortion. Well, not completely. Hey there, all you happy people, today, I will be talking about choices.
Choice. It's a beautiful thing we humans have, the power to choose what we'll eat or drink, or wear, and on an even larger scale, our destinies. Choice is awesome, and nearly every human being on the planet will agree with me when I say that the right to choose what happens to them is the best thing ever. Most people will agree with me, except for the most diehard of Pentecostals, and Dominionists in general.
First, let's look at the word "choice" (taken from Merriam-Webster Online).
Given that "choice" is not a four-letter word, why is it that Pentecostal denominations fear it so much? I have an idea, and it might be wrong, but these are just ideas based on my personal observations.
The reason why the act and power of choosing is so damn frightening to people with these beliefs is, by my observation, threefold. One is freedom from accountability to one's own actions, and the rammifications such accountability may have, the second is a fear of what such a power implies about the existence of their version of God, and the third and the final one is a hatred of humanity in general, and themselves especially. The idea that it is neither God nor Satan who controls human action, but people themselves, is so abnormal to people who think the way that Pentecostals do, that they push their issues about the matter on the rest of humanity.
The three points will run over into each other because, for the most part, they're all connected in the end.
In a Jordi the Mighty special, a three-part essay about the power of Choice, and why the concept scares those in the Pentecostal movement.
~Jordi~
(It'll still contain my usual profanity and angry. Don't worry, guys, new and old.)
Choice. It's a beautiful thing we humans have, the power to choose what we'll eat or drink, or wear, and on an even larger scale, our destinies. Choice is awesome, and nearly every human being on the planet will agree with me when I say that the right to choose what happens to them is the best thing ever. Most people will agree with me, except for the most diehard of Pentecostals, and Dominionists in general.
First, let's look at the word "choice" (taken from Merriam-Webster Online).
1: the act of choosing
- choice
- Pronunciation:
- \ˈchȯis\
- Function:
- noun
2: power of choosing
Given that "choice" is not a four-letter word, why is it that Pentecostal denominations fear it so much? I have an idea, and it might be wrong, but these are just ideas based on my personal observations.
The reason why the act and power of choosing is so damn frightening to people with these beliefs is, by my observation, threefold. One is freedom from accountability to one's own actions, and the rammifications such accountability may have, the second is a fear of what such a power implies about the existence of their version of God, and the third and the final one is a hatred of humanity in general, and themselves especially. The idea that it is neither God nor Satan who controls human action, but people themselves, is so abnormal to people who think the way that Pentecostals do, that they push their issues about the matter on the rest of humanity.
The three points will run over into each other because, for the most part, they're all connected in the end.
In a Jordi the Mighty special, a three-part essay about the power of Choice, and why the concept scares those in the Pentecostal movement.
~Jordi~
(It'll still contain my usual profanity and angry. Don't worry, guys, new and old.)
On returning to the fold and why it's not worth it.
I sometimes think about going back.
Back to Pentecostalism. Back to the fold.
Because if I did, would it be worth it? Would my parents love the real me or the fake, Pentecostal me who fake-smiles and tries to "bring people to Jesus" when all I am is being annoying and obnoxious?
I thought I moved past the age of having to seek my parents' approval, but no. I still feel like I should go back so that I can be like the prodigal son who came back from squalor and misery and into the loving embrace of Home and Family.
But I haven't left Pentecostalism only to wind up miserable. I'm happy, even if it might not show. If I'm sad, it's because I'm hurt by the fact that my parents have yet to accept that there is happiness outside of church. I feel as if they think I'm not "legitimate" becausethey failed to marry me off I no longer adhere to the strict yet ever-changing Pentecostal Rules of Conduct at home and at church. It's too much to ask. Especially if the rules keep changing so rapidly.
I am not kidding. The rules. Keep. changing. And anyone who's been in a Pente/Charismatic church for as long as I have will know how it is.
If you're too social with members of the opposite sex, you're a slut. If you're too social with members of the same sex, you're an evil, evil faggot. If you're not social enough, you're holding back and forsaking the fellowship. If you're too social, you're causing division. If you don't go to the altar, you're a wicked sinner who doesn't want to give up "the World" (wait, I own the fucking world? Why would I wanna give that up). If you're up at the altar a lot, you're being greedy. If you have to be dragged up to the altar, you're full of demonswe are not gonna get into how anti-Biblical that shit is. If you don't worship "expressively", you're holding back. If you worship too expressively, you're trying to get attention. If you're not married by a certain age, you're an old maid. If you are married, you'd better start cranking out the God Warriors kiddies soon, but not too soon! And this goes on, and on, and on, and on until we don't know what the hell we're doing anymore.
I can't deal with that shit. I can't. Fucking. Deal. I know that there is a time and place to "conform", but how the fuck can I do it when the standard changes every other week? How the fuck do Pentecostals deal? Especially with the concept of privacy versus an Open Book kind of life: You're supposed to disclose every intimate detail of your life while keeping the rituals of the church a secret because if people knew the true face of a Pentecostal church, people outside of it would look and think, "Well, that's just fucking insane!"
Problem is, people inside look at it and say, "Well, that's just fuckin' crazy!" ...Except probably minus the F-bomb.
Heh. Sometimes, I think of going back. Then I count the cost.
It's not worth it in the end. My mental health will thank me later, even if my parents will not understand.
~Jordi~
Back to Pentecostalism. Back to the fold.
Because if I did, would it be worth it? Would my parents love the real me or the fake, Pentecostal me who fake-smiles and tries to "bring people to Jesus" when all I am is being annoying and obnoxious?
I thought I moved past the age of having to seek my parents' approval, but no. I still feel like I should go back so that I can be like the prodigal son who came back from squalor and misery and into the loving embrace of Home and Family.
But I haven't left Pentecostalism only to wind up miserable. I'm happy, even if it might not show. If I'm sad, it's because I'm hurt by the fact that my parents have yet to accept that there is happiness outside of church. I feel as if they think I'm not "legitimate" because
I am not kidding. The rules. Keep. changing. And anyone who's been in a Pente/Charismatic church for as long as I have will know how it is.
If you're too social with members of the opposite sex, you're a slut. If you're too social with members of the same sex, you're an evil, evil faggot. If you're not social enough, you're holding back and forsaking the fellowship. If you're too social, you're causing division. If you don't go to the altar, you're a wicked sinner who doesn't want to give up "the World" (wait, I own the fucking world? Why would I wanna give that up). If you're up at the altar a lot, you're being greedy. If you have to be dragged up to the altar, you're full of demons
I can't deal with that shit. I can't. Fucking. Deal. I know that there is a time and place to "conform", but how the fuck can I do it when the standard changes every other week? How the fuck do Pentecostals deal? Especially with the concept of privacy versus an Open Book kind of life: You're supposed to disclose every intimate detail of your life while keeping the rituals of the church a secret because if people knew the true face of a Pentecostal church, people outside of it would look and think, "Well, that's just fucking insane!"
Problem is, people inside look at it and say, "Well, that's just fuckin' crazy!" ...Except probably minus the F-bomb.
Heh. Sometimes, I think of going back. Then I count the cost.
It's not worth it in the end. My mental health will thank me later, even if my parents will not understand.
~Jordi~
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
James Dobson has a head full of muffins.
Does this man have a brain in there, or is it a storage case for Oatmeal Raisin muffins.
I swore I'd keep this blog relatively Politics Free, but since this is also religion-related, and those two (woefully) overlap, well....
James Dobson doesn't like Barack Obama. Why? No questions about his inexperience, no Covert Racism. No. Dobson has a hate-on for Obama because "Doctor" Dobson thinks that Barack Obama "distorts the Bible".
I ask what the shit is this? Doesn't God's Prophet in Colorado Springs make a living off of distorting the Bible? Isn't he of the school of "Well, the dietary directions of Leviticus don't count, but all the blatantly homophobic and misogynist stuff? That's God's Way for Today"?
I..I just...
His head is full of some bigass fucking muffins.
But what do you expect from a guy who beats his dog and then writes it into a published book about child-rearing?
~Jordi~
(BGM Music: "Happy Place" by Masami Okui)
I swore I'd keep this blog relatively Politics Free, but since this is also religion-related, and those two (woefully) overlap, well....
James Dobson doesn't like Barack Obama. Why? No questions about his inexperience, no Covert Racism. No. Dobson has a hate-on for Obama because "Doctor" Dobson thinks that Barack Obama "distorts the Bible".
I ask what the shit is this? Doesn't God's Prophet in Colorado Springs make a living off of distorting the Bible? Isn't he of the school of "Well, the dietary directions of Leviticus don't count, but all the blatantly homophobic and misogynist stuff? That's God's Way for Today"?
I..I just...
His head is full of some bigass fucking muffins.
But what do you expect from a guy who beats his dog and then writes it into a published book about child-rearing?
~Jordi~
(BGM Music: "Happy Place" by Masami Okui)
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Bitter and Sweet
Father's Day is bitter and sweet to me. 'Cause once upon a time, my dad was my hero. Then he got all filled with Holy Ghost propaganda and now I am no longer sure who this stranger wearing my dad's face is.
It's sweet to me because I'll always have the memories of when there was still hope. Even in my most fully brainwashed state, my dad was my hero.
Now that I've become Agnostic, coming forth with this information is not so easy, since my dad was swallowed up by this catchphrase-spewing robot-man wearing my father's face.
Father's Day makes me simultaneously sad and angry. Sad because I miss those happy memories, and angry because Dad 2.0 makes it stupid fucking hard to make any sort of headway in bridging the gap we've made for ourselves.
I take responsibility for my part. But...fuck.
Happy Father's Day. Tell your dad that you love him.
~Jordi~
BGM: "Bittersweet Symphony" by The Verve
It's sweet to me because I'll always have the memories of when there was still hope. Even in my most fully brainwashed state, my dad was my hero.
Now that I've become Agnostic, coming forth with this information is not so easy, since my dad was swallowed up by this catchphrase-spewing robot-man wearing my father's face.
Father's Day makes me simultaneously sad and angry. Sad because I miss those happy memories, and angry because Dad 2.0 makes it stupid fucking hard to make any sort of headway in bridging the gap we've made for ourselves.
I take responsibility for my part. But...fuck.
Happy Father's Day. Tell your dad that you love him.
~Jordi~
BGM: "Bittersweet Symphony" by The Verve
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Have a Happy Mother's Day
To those whose mothers are still alive, tell your mom that you love her today. :3
Though, you should do that every day, because moms are awesome, especially mine.
Even if she does and says things that make me twitch and headdesk at times, she is still my mom, and she's the only one I've got.
Why does Mother's Day give me the warm fuzzies, while Father's Day just makes me want to hurt someone? That's coming up next on the Epic Father's Day Rant.
~A Jordi~
Though, you should do that every day, because moms are awesome, especially mine.
Even if she does and says things that make me twitch and headdesk at times, she is still my mom, and she's the only one I've got.
Why does Mother's Day give me the warm fuzzies, while Father's Day just makes me want to hurt someone? That's coming up next on the Epic Father's Day Rant.
~A Jordi~
Friday, May 9, 2008
This Jordi is a No Embryo Zone.
I will never have children. Not because I can't, but because I don't want to. I will never make children, because the concept of being pregnant gives me the jibblies just thinking about it. I'd never be able to go near a child anyway, since I'm one of Them Ebil Gheis (well, bisexuals), but anyway, there are many other reasons.
On one side of the family, depression and anxiety disorders. On the other side, shitty anger management, and on both sides, codependency, drug and alcohol abuse, and basic fucked-up-itudes. I'm not passing that shit on to any kid. Besides, I'm a basket case myself. Why the hell would anyone give me responsibility of a tiny human whose personality is a blank canvas upon which I will carelessly spill paint upon like one of those garish modern art pieces, anyway? I mean, if there was some sort of mandatory test to see if someone was fit to parent, I'd fail it harder than a math test.
So, yeah. I sure as hell wouldn't put a child into the hands of me. What whackjob is going to let me near children knowing that the nonverbal, diaper-wearing set makes me feel quite nervous? I mean, other than the whackjobs at the good ol' Pentecostal church where they think that everyone with female anatomical fixtures is automatically interested in children and wants to be involved with them in every way.
I think not.
----------
And somewhat on-subject, I wonder how hypocritical my parents really are. I wonder how re-fucking-diculous it is that I, at sixteen was somehow not or informed enough to make decisions about what I was going to do with my body, yet a goddamn twelve-year-old who said that she wanted twelve damn kids was more "educated" than I was at sixteen.
Motherfucker.
The bottom line is, some people can hack it, and some people can't. Not every (biological) female on Earth is riddled with Baby Fever, and some can manage just fine without the latest accessory.
Not everyone with a kid should have one, and not everyone without a kid wants one.
~A Jordi~
BGM: "Innocence" by Hashimoto Miyuki
On one side of the family, depression and anxiety disorders. On the other side, shitty anger management, and on both sides, codependency, drug and alcohol abuse, and basic fucked-up-itudes. I'm not passing that shit on to any kid. Besides, I'm a basket case myself. Why the hell would anyone give me responsibility of a tiny human whose personality is a blank canvas upon which I will carelessly spill paint upon like one of those garish modern art pieces, anyway? I mean, if there was some sort of mandatory test to see if someone was fit to parent, I'd fail it harder than a math test.
So, yeah. I sure as hell wouldn't put a child into the hands of me. What whackjob is going to let me near children knowing that the nonverbal, diaper-wearing set makes me feel quite nervous? I mean, other than the whackjobs at the good ol' Pentecostal church where they think that everyone with female anatomical fixtures is automatically interested in children and wants to be involved with them in every way.
I think not.
----------
And somewhat on-subject, I wonder how hypocritical my parents really are. I wonder how re-fucking-diculous it is that I, at sixteen was somehow not or informed enough to make decisions about what I was going to do with my body, yet a goddamn twelve-year-old who said that she wanted twelve damn kids was more "educated" than I was at sixteen.
Motherfucker.
The bottom line is, some people can hack it, and some people can't. Not every (biological) female on Earth is riddled with Baby Fever, and some can manage just fine without the latest accessory.
Not everyone with a kid should have one, and not everyone without a kid wants one.
~A Jordi~
BGM: "Innocence" by Hashimoto Miyuki
Monday, May 5, 2008
And Things
I find purity balls to be Fucking Creepy, and I think that anyone who says that all bisexuals either fear or hate commitment have no idea what the fuck they're talking about.
Point One: On Purity Balls being creepy. The church my parents go to are too broke to have one, but from what I've heard from people who have had them, and from articles about it, and if the annual Dove Ball is any indication of what real Purity Balls are like, I am prepared to scrub more than one layer of my skin off with steel wool. What goes on at Purity Balls is that girls get all dolled up in dresses from JC Penny or wherever, and get ready to entrust their virginity to their dads, while their dads swear to protect their daughter's virginity until such a time she is married.
Never mind the marriage thing is already being somewhat imitated. With one's father. If that part doesn't get you, let the part where the girls who do this are more or less giving their sexuality to one man (the father) until she is given up to another man (the husband) in a ceremony that is not unlike a wedding itself sink in. If the part about it being like a wedding ceremony doesn't make you want to scrub three layers of skin off with steel wool, then the idea that they're giving up their rights as sexual beings until they're given away into marriage just might.
Then again, who said such lifelong (or at least For A Shitload Of Time, because I'm realistic) commitments needed to be heterosexual to be any "real" commitment?
Which brings us to Point Two: Bisexuals are just as able to be faithful in their relationships as any gay or straight person. People just have these preconceived and bullshit notions about bisexuals in general, and what makes up a "real" commitment. If you trust a person, no matter what their plumbing is like, and you want to be with that person and only that person, then that's a commitment. I think that it works in a similar way in a polygamous relationship, but I wouldn't know, so I can't tell you a damn thing about that without bullshitting horribly, but, anyway. It bothers me when people insinuate that the only sort of "love" that can exist is the kind between a man and a woman, when that's not everyone. One's sexual orientation has dick all to do with their ability to commit to any one person and everything to do with a number of other factors, namely, one's feelings on the subject of commitment in the first place.
~A Jordi~
BGM: The DDR version of "Hot Limit" by John Desire
Point One: On Purity Balls being creepy. The church my parents go to are too broke to have one, but from what I've heard from people who have had them, and from articles about it, and if the annual Dove Ball is any indication of what real Purity Balls are like, I am prepared to scrub more than one layer of my skin off with steel wool. What goes on at Purity Balls is that girls get all dolled up in dresses from JC Penny or wherever, and get ready to entrust their virginity to their dads, while their dads swear to protect their daughter's virginity until such a time she is married.
Never mind the marriage thing is already being somewhat imitated. With one's father. If that part doesn't get you, let the part where the girls who do this are more or less giving their sexuality to one man (the father) until she is given up to another man (the husband) in a ceremony that is not unlike a wedding itself sink in. If the part about it being like a wedding ceremony doesn't make you want to scrub three layers of skin off with steel wool, then the idea that they're giving up their rights as sexual beings until they're given away into marriage just might.
Then again, who said such lifelong (or at least For A Shitload Of Time, because I'm realistic) commitments needed to be heterosexual to be any "real" commitment?
Which brings us to Point Two: Bisexuals are just as able to be faithful in their relationships as any gay or straight person. People just have these preconceived and bullshit notions about bisexuals in general, and what makes up a "real" commitment. If you trust a person, no matter what their plumbing is like, and you want to be with that person and only that person, then that's a commitment. I think that it works in a similar way in a polygamous relationship, but I wouldn't know, so I can't tell you a damn thing about that without bullshitting horribly, but, anyway. It bothers me when people insinuate that the only sort of "love" that can exist is the kind between a man and a woman, when that's not everyone. One's sexual orientation has dick all to do with their ability to commit to any one person and everything to do with a number of other factors, namely, one's feelings on the subject of commitment in the first place.
~A Jordi~
BGM: The DDR version of "Hot Limit" by John Desire
Sunday, May 4, 2008
On not going to church as opposed to going, and my rantings.
I feel better this month of non-attendance in church than I have in the years I have attended. I feel cooler and less like I suck so bad, to quote Strong Sad.
I feel like a human being capable of doing good as opposed to a vessel through which a warped version of God does good.
I feel like I actually matter, like my intelligence is appreciated as opposed to being insulted.
I feel like I am right in embracing all the things that make me Jordi, doubts and all, as opposed to constantly feeling as if I am not good enough.
I feel comfortable in my own skin, as opposed to wanting to get out of it.
I enjoy this life that I have, as opposed to wanting to die so that I can see Jesus sooner.
Most of all, I see the good in everyone, and am able to see them as people, as opposed to "terminals" or conduits through which this disgusting and self-replicating virus called Pentecostalism can be spread. I am happy to no longer be a part of it, and not feel any obligations but to stay black and die.
There is no freedom in attendance, but I can tell you about the freedom of my nonattendance. My self-esteem has, in fact, gone up. I wonder if my parents can see the difference between the "me" who attended church enthusiastically, the "me" who attended church dutifully and out of obligation, and the "me" who doesn't go at all.
I'm happier having not gone this month. I deserved this vacation after years of being forced to go and mingle with people with whom I have nothing in common, and who I don't even like, and I doubt that they really like me as much as they like the opportunity to make a connection with my parents.
These are things I never told my parents. How uncomfortable I feel in church when the eyes of the men fall on me. When I try to make awkward conversation with the women. When that same group of girls pesters and bothers me, and everyone turns a blind eye.
It's just like high school. And I left high school behind three years ago. The mentality is exactly the fucking same. And I was tired. No one bothered to wake me up, so I went with it.
Who can blame me? Apparently, my dad does. I hope he understands once I'm outed and forced to either make my parents go bankrupt in order to send me to Magical Jeebus Degaying Camp or get kicked out of the house, and instantly disowned because, Death before Dishonor, right?
I will never let those fucks break me, no matter what they threaten me with.
~Jordi~
BGM: "Freedom" by BeForU. How fitting.
I feel like a human being capable of doing good as opposed to a vessel through which a warped version of God does good.
I feel like I actually matter, like my intelligence is appreciated as opposed to being insulted.
I feel like I am right in embracing all the things that make me Jordi, doubts and all, as opposed to constantly feeling as if I am not good enough.
I feel comfortable in my own skin, as opposed to wanting to get out of it.
I enjoy this life that I have, as opposed to wanting to die so that I can see Jesus sooner.
Most of all, I see the good in everyone, and am able to see them as people, as opposed to "terminals" or conduits through which this disgusting and self-replicating virus called Pentecostalism can be spread. I am happy to no longer be a part of it, and not feel any obligations but to stay black and die.
There is no freedom in attendance, but I can tell you about the freedom of my nonattendance. My self-esteem has, in fact, gone up. I wonder if my parents can see the difference between the "me" who attended church enthusiastically, the "me" who attended church dutifully and out of obligation, and the "me" who doesn't go at all.
I'm happier having not gone this month. I deserved this vacation after years of being forced to go and mingle with people with whom I have nothing in common, and who I don't even like, and I doubt that they really like me as much as they like the opportunity to make a connection with my parents.
These are things I never told my parents. How uncomfortable I feel in church when the eyes of the men fall on me. When I try to make awkward conversation with the women. When that same group of girls pesters and bothers me, and everyone turns a blind eye.
It's just like high school. And I left high school behind three years ago. The mentality is exactly the fucking same. And I was tired. No one bothered to wake me up, so I went with it.
Who can blame me? Apparently, my dad does. I hope he understands once I'm outed and forced to either make my parents go bankrupt in order to send me to Magical Jeebus Degaying Camp or get kicked out of the house, and instantly disowned because, Death before Dishonor, right?
I will never let those fucks break me, no matter what they threaten me with.
~Jordi~
BGM: "Freedom" by BeForU. How fitting.
Friday, May 2, 2008
Christian Music Sucks
In my city, there are two major Christian radio stations. There's 89.3, YESFM and 96.9, K-Love. There's also an AM station called Dominion Radio, but judging by name alone, I refuse to listen to it for obvious reasons!
Anyway, as a pastor's daughter, I have been exposed to a lot of Christian media alternatives to secular things. I know one thing, though, and that is the fact that most alternatives that Christians give us tend to lose something. At first, I could not put my finger on it, now I know.
It loses its soul. There's no soul in the Christian music that tries its best to be like the secular stuff it's copying. And what sickens me most? The band that talk about non-conformity.
Bullshit. What a load of fucking bullshit. It's basically, "Don't follow that crowd, follow this crowd instead". Difference is, the Christian crowd will, instead of pressuring you to smoke and do drugs, the peer pressure will involve swallowing live goldfish and going to purity balls.
So, yeah. More on My Thoughts On Purity Balls And Why I Find Them Creepy As All Hell, coming up!
~A Jordi~
BGM: "Gunjou Biyori" by Tokyo Jihen
Anyway, as a pastor's daughter, I have been exposed to a lot of Christian media alternatives to secular things. I know one thing, though, and that is the fact that most alternatives that Christians give us tend to lose something. At first, I could not put my finger on it, now I know.
It loses its soul. There's no soul in the Christian music that tries its best to be like the secular stuff it's copying. And what sickens me most? The band that talk about non-conformity.
Bullshit. What a load of fucking bullshit. It's basically, "Don't follow that crowd, follow this crowd instead". Difference is, the Christian crowd will, instead of pressuring you to smoke and do drugs, the peer pressure will involve swallowing live goldfish and going to purity balls.
So, yeah. More on My Thoughts On Purity Balls And Why I Find Them Creepy As All Hell, coming up!
~A Jordi~
BGM: "Gunjou Biyori" by Tokyo Jihen
The Pro-Marriage Crowd as Snake Oil Salesmen
A rant that's been boiling inside me for a long time.
Marriage itself can be a beautiful thing. I'm a hopeless, hopeless romantic who still dreams of wedded bliss, the gender of my dream spouse has changed, is all. Marriage itself can be beautiful, and I believe that everyone should be able to.
Well, okay, not everyone. I think that people should go through counseling first to see if they're ready at that moment, if at all, for married life. But it's not about that.
Marriage is beautiful. The people pushing it have made it abhorrent to some, including myself. "Marriage is an institution, well, so's prison", the joke goes, but marriage is no mere institution to those who push it onto people yet keep gay people from marrying.
No, it somehow managed to get mutated into this cure-all miracle drug for all of society's ills. Too bad things aren't necessarily As Seen On TV. Or, in this case, the pulpit, the podium, or wherever the hell politicians, preachers, and writers reach the masses. It's no different from the snake-oil salesmen of yesteryear. It's nothing more than false advertisement and more worship of Traditional Marriage and Family Values in place of the God they claim to love so much.
Yet over half of marriages end in divorce due to everyone wringing their hands over people living together before marriage. And gay people getting married. Yet no one worries that people are jumping blindly into this marriage thing thinking that it'll solve all their problems or something. There are just people who jump into marriage and children too quickly, thinking nothing of the work that it takes to make a marriage work, and are merely doing it so that they can be a couple without their parents or grandparents disapproving.
How fucking ironic. As I watch my gay and lesbian brothers and sisters in the struggle fight for their right to proclaim before men and whichever deity or deities (if any at all) that they love this person and will be with them 'till they die (or, at least, for a pretty damn long time), here we have it devalued by the very people trying to keep it a heterosexual-only thing.
And that's what pisses me off about the whole damn thing.
~A Jordi~
BGM: "Invoke" by T.M. Revolution
Marriage itself can be a beautiful thing. I'm a hopeless, hopeless romantic who still dreams of wedded bliss, the gender of my dream spouse has changed, is all. Marriage itself can be beautiful, and I believe that everyone should be able to.
Well, okay, not everyone. I think that people should go through counseling first to see if they're ready at that moment, if at all, for married life. But it's not about that.
Marriage is beautiful. The people pushing it have made it abhorrent to some, including myself. "Marriage is an institution, well, so's prison", the joke goes, but marriage is no mere institution to those who push it onto people yet keep gay people from marrying.
No, it somehow managed to get mutated into this cure-all miracle drug for all of society's ills. Too bad things aren't necessarily As Seen On TV. Or, in this case, the pulpit, the podium, or wherever the hell politicians, preachers, and writers reach the masses. It's no different from the snake-oil salesmen of yesteryear. It's nothing more than false advertisement and more worship of Traditional Marriage and Family Values in place of the God they claim to love so much.
Yet over half of marriages end in divorce due to everyone wringing their hands over people living together before marriage. And gay people getting married. Yet no one worries that people are jumping blindly into this marriage thing thinking that it'll solve all their problems or something. There are just people who jump into marriage and children too quickly, thinking nothing of the work that it takes to make a marriage work, and are merely doing it so that they can be a couple without their parents or grandparents disapproving.
How fucking ironic. As I watch my gay and lesbian brothers and sisters in the struggle fight for their right to proclaim before men and whichever deity or deities (if any at all) that they love this person and will be with them 'till they die (or, at least, for a pretty damn long time), here we have it devalued by the very people trying to keep it a heterosexual-only thing.
And that's what pisses me off about the whole damn thing.
~A Jordi~
BGM: "Invoke" by T.M. Revolution
Thursday, May 1, 2008
The Magical Jesus Incantation
I want to tell you guys a story.
I was all of thirteen, and, as usual, situations at school had me down in the dumps. Actually, more than that. At thirteen years old, I was ready to die, or so I thought. Eight years ago, everything was frustrating, especially with church and youth group. That only served to make things worse. A lot worse.
What was the solution? To usher me (quite literally) up to the altar so that they could say the Magical Jesus Incantation and supposedly, I'd be better. And for a while, it worked. I spoke the jive, I did the dances, but within a week, more frustration, more depression, and always the persistent urge to hurt myself as some warped form of punishment. And within a week, I was back again. This would go on for two more years before I just didn't go up there anymore, because of something that the people pushing the Magical Jesus Incantation as some sort of cure-all won't tell you:
It doesn't really work.
Sure, it felt like it worked, and I used it for everything from headaches to general bummer-ness. For a while, I thought it worked, but it was merely the placebo effect taking place. If I wanted it to work, it did. Sadly, my low self-esteem stayed, so'd the weight. And the headaches. And everything else I tried to banish with the "In The Name Of Jesus" spell.
That's what they fail to tell you--that it never works. It's merely a way to make more money come time to pass the offering plate. After all, miracles cost money.
~A Jordi~
I was all of thirteen, and, as usual, situations at school had me down in the dumps. Actually, more than that. At thirteen years old, I was ready to die, or so I thought. Eight years ago, everything was frustrating, especially with church and youth group. That only served to make things worse. A lot worse.
What was the solution? To usher me (quite literally) up to the altar so that they could say the Magical Jesus Incantation and supposedly, I'd be better. And for a while, it worked. I spoke the jive, I did the dances, but within a week, more frustration, more depression, and always the persistent urge to hurt myself as some warped form of punishment. And within a week, I was back again. This would go on for two more years before I just didn't go up there anymore, because of something that the people pushing the Magical Jesus Incantation as some sort of cure-all won't tell you:
It doesn't really work.
Sure, it felt like it worked, and I used it for everything from headaches to general bummer-ness. For a while, I thought it worked, but it was merely the placebo effect taking place. If I wanted it to work, it did. Sadly, my low self-esteem stayed, so'd the weight. And the headaches. And everything else I tried to banish with the "In The Name Of Jesus" spell.
That's what they fail to tell you--that it never works. It's merely a way to make more money come time to pass the offering plate. After all, miracles cost money.
~A Jordi~
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Boredom Breeds Contempt
Some of the stuff from my earlier years trapped in the Assemblies of God mindset are a blur. I remember vaguely how isolated I felt, and how I was told that this isolation was A Good Thing because I was part of a Very Special Group that God Himself chose to save the world.
Looking back now, I remember years of tiny acts of rebellion. Watching VH1. Then MTV. Then USA back when they had the Up All Night programming (you know, the time when they'd broadcast softcore porn? Memories). Eventually, I was playing Goldeneye 64 and watching hardcore porn...not really. But I did know more about the world at large than my fellow Christian Schoolmates. I knew that their interpretation of the Bible was just that, an interpretation. I knew that our "science" books didn't contain any real science, and our history books didn't contain any real history.
I also remember the boredom. Oh lord, the boredom. Everything non-Bible that one wanted to read while in school had to be approved by the teacher then the principal then the Pastor.
Explained why all the books in the library were published back when my grandparents were in the fifth grade. But, I digress.
The reason why I think that my childhood from the time I was in the second grade to my sophomore year of high school sucked so bad was because it was all so boring. With basically everything being sinful, that left me with
stale-assed books and movies, or the entertainment industry equivalent of fat-free foods: Christian Entertainment Alternatives.
So, yeah.
Boredom breeds contempt. And when you're a church-kid, there's tons of boredom.
~A Jordi~
BGM: "Ichirin no Hana" by High and Mighty Color
Looking back now, I remember years of tiny acts of rebellion. Watching VH1. Then MTV. Then USA back when they had the Up All Night programming (you know, the time when they'd broadcast softcore porn? Memories). Eventually, I was playing Goldeneye 64 and watching hardcore porn...not really. But I did know more about the world at large than my fellow Christian Schoolmates. I knew that their interpretation of the Bible was just that, an interpretation. I knew that our "science" books didn't contain any real science, and our history books didn't contain any real history.
I also remember the boredom. Oh lord, the boredom. Everything non-Bible that one wanted to read while in school had to be approved by the teacher then the principal then the Pastor.
Explained why all the books in the library were published back when my grandparents were in the fifth grade. But, I digress.
The reason why I think that my childhood from the time I was in the second grade to my sophomore year of high school sucked so bad was because it was all so boring. With basically everything being sinful, that left me with
stale-assed books and movies, or the entertainment industry equivalent of fat-free foods: Christian Entertainment Alternatives.
So, yeah.
Boredom breeds contempt. And when you're a church-kid, there's tons of boredom.
~A Jordi~
BGM: "Ichirin no Hana" by High and Mighty Color
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Attention Stupid People!
If any stupid people actually read this blog...
Attention Stupid People: You cannot choose who you're attracted to.
Ya hear me? People don't choose to be gay. That's fucking ridiculous, actually. Who'd want to be hated based solely on who they're in love with, huh? Sexual orientation isn't like religion, where you can pick and choose based on what fits you.
So why the hell does my brother, who seems like a child of this century, believe this tripe? Simple answer: He's been brainwashed like the many people trapped in a particularly hardline sect of Pentecostal Christianity.
Complex answer? ...The simple answer, plus the following: Conditioning, conditioning, conditioning. Then again, he's a typical adolescent who thinks that girls making out is "Suuuu hawt" yet would probably beat up real-life gay people and/or rape real-life lesbians thinking that a deep dicking will turn them straight or something.
...But more on that later. Right now, this is General Rage At The Ignorant World At Large! Especially at stupid people who seem to think that people choose to be discriminated against, condemned to hell for no reason, and then murdered, after which the murderer can use the "gay panic" defense and go free to kill more gay people.
Fuck.
One might not choose who they're attracted to, but people choose whether or not to be fucking ignorant.
~Jordi~
BGM: "Love Slave" by Under17
Attention Stupid People: You cannot choose who you're attracted to.
Ya hear me? People don't choose to be gay. That's fucking ridiculous, actually. Who'd want to be hated based solely on who they're in love with, huh? Sexual orientation isn't like religion, where you can pick and choose based on what fits you.
So why the hell does my brother, who seems like a child of this century, believe this tripe? Simple answer: He's been brainwashed like the many people trapped in a particularly hardline sect of Pentecostal Christianity.
Complex answer? ...The simple answer, plus the following: Conditioning, conditioning, conditioning. Then again, he's a typical adolescent who thinks that girls making out is "Suuuu hawt" yet would probably beat up real-life gay people and/or rape real-life lesbians thinking that a deep dicking will turn them straight or something.
...But more on that later. Right now, this is General Rage At The Ignorant World At Large! Especially at stupid people who seem to think that people choose to be discriminated against, condemned to hell for no reason, and then murdered, after which the murderer can use the "gay panic" defense and go free to kill more gay people.
Fuck.
One might not choose who they're attracted to, but people choose whether or not to be fucking ignorant.
~Jordi~
BGM: "Love Slave" by Under17
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
I refuse to do it.
As much as I hate Christian advice books for women, mostly because they suck ass and because the advice could easily be found in a book authored by a non-Christian minus the glaring hatred-of-one's-own-gender, I refuse to do a chapter-by-chapter skewering of one a la The Cynic Sage.
Instead, I think I'll mock the whole damn book if I can stomach reading it.
~A Jordi~
Instead, I think I'll mock the whole damn book if I can stomach reading it.
~A Jordi~
Strange to be on Marvel Hill
Yep. Another song reference.
One of the things that'll come up here on this blog is religion and my thoughts on it. Part of my coming out (as it were) is coming out from something else.
I had a blog all about this kind of stuff, but it's...dead. And as such, I use Jordi the Mighty to chronicle my journey out of the closet, and my thoughts on leaving the box that is Pentecostalism. I wonder what it'd be like if my parents never heard of the damn church in the first place. Would things be easier then? Would I be a different person? I know that I'd never become a social butterfly, but would I be better with people than I am now? Would I be more trusting? Would it be easier for me to come out of the closet than it is now? With my dad, that's not likely, but still. I don't think I'd be condemned to hell by my own father. Fuck.
Would I have been able to handle school a little better if not for being told to rejoice when people treated you like shit, because it was the work of de debbil, and that he's trying to keep you from doing the work of GAWD!!1...? I think so. I think my parents would've done something about the bullying. Then again, I'd have been strong enough to tell them to back the fuck off.
I sometimes wonder what might have been, but I don't dwell on it. I don't regret turning my back on [church not named] at the age of sixteen, and abandoning the Assemblies of God a year later. I don't, really. I know that all the stuff with my family and my general issues with trust are going to take time to set right. I know all of that.
I don't regret leaving at all. The only way I'd regret it is if I stayed one more day, knowing that it's wrong, knowing that there's tons more out there in Christianity alone, and just staying in that little sandbox forever, ignoring the fact that there are other sandboxes, and there might be a swing set.
~Jordi~
BGM: "Junk of the Hearts" by The Cardigans
One of the things that'll come up here on this blog is religion and my thoughts on it. Part of my coming out (as it were) is coming out from something else.
I had a blog all about this kind of stuff, but it's...dead. And as such, I use Jordi the Mighty to chronicle my journey out of the closet, and my thoughts on leaving the box that is Pentecostalism. I wonder what it'd be like if my parents never heard of the damn church in the first place. Would things be easier then? Would I be a different person? I know that I'd never become a social butterfly, but would I be better with people than I am now? Would I be more trusting? Would it be easier for me to come out of the closet than it is now? With my dad, that's not likely, but still. I don't think I'd be condemned to hell by my own father. Fuck.
Would I have been able to handle school a little better if not for being told to rejoice when people treated you like shit, because it was the work of de debbil, and that he's trying to keep you from doing the work of GAWD!!1...? I think so. I think my parents would've done something about the bullying. Then again, I'd have been strong enough to tell them to back the fuck off.
I sometimes wonder what might have been, but I don't dwell on it. I don't regret turning my back on [church not named] at the age of sixteen, and abandoning the Assemblies of God a year later. I don't, really. I know that all the stuff with my family and my general issues with trust are going to take time to set right. I know all of that.
I don't regret leaving at all. The only way I'd regret it is if I stayed one more day, knowing that it's wrong, knowing that there's tons more out there in Christianity alone, and just staying in that little sandbox forever, ignoring the fact that there are other sandboxes, and there might be a swing set.
~Jordi~
BGM: "Junk of the Hearts" by The Cardigans
Monday, April 7, 2008
Naked Blogging and Other Such Oddities
The original title for this blog was going to be The Naked Blogger. Except...I don't necessarily blog naked, but right now, I am stripped down to green leopard-print underwear, at the moment. Then I decided on Jordi the Mighty and it stuck. It was also an excuse to use non-English in the URL. :D
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How do I loathe thee, Lifetime Network? About as much as I love HGTV, which means that I hate Lifetime as much as the ocean is wide. Unlike my love for HGTV being more or less a guilty secret, though, my hatred of Lifetime is no big secret. In fact, my sister hears my groans of disgust when she switches it over to that network when I leave the room (and House Hunters was on, too!), my mum knows it when I decline, as politely as possible, to watch the newest movie with her. Now you, oh blogosphere, if you stumbled across this blog looking for thoughts on the political issues of the day (I've declared JtM a relatively politics-free zone), will know why I hate it so.
Never have I seen a network that carried and produces programming that manages to be misandrous misogynist, homophobic and ageist both ways, all at the same time. If there was a male version of the Lifetime Network, I'm sure there'd be worldwide protest. I'd protest, too, because sexism is A Bad Thing and it keeps people from appreciating each other as, well, people. Not only that, most of the movies just suck, and club you over the head with the message that Men Are Evil And Will Hurt You, Except For The Queeny Gay Guys Who Should Be Women Anyway, and where the fuck are the lesbians? The bisexual women? Oh, right. They haven't found the right guy yet. Fuck The What. I thought that being lesbian meant that you didn't like any guys, at least not romantically and/or sexually, and being a bisexual was like the old Almond Joy commercials said: Sometimes you feel like some nuts, sometimes you don't. Except it's way, way harder than candy bar preferences, but aaaanyway. Goddamn, I have never seen a network that was somehow potentially offensive to damn near everybody. TV shows, yes. Book series, yes. I believe that anyone who is a Christian, a writer, a librarian, a bookseller, or basically anyone who likes books should be offended by Left Behind and books of its ilk. But never a whole damn network. Goddamn.
~Jordi~
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How do I loathe thee, Lifetime Network? About as much as I love HGTV, which means that I hate Lifetime as much as the ocean is wide. Unlike my love for HGTV being more or less a guilty secret, though, my hatred of Lifetime is no big secret. In fact, my sister hears my groans of disgust when she switches it over to that network when I leave the room (and House Hunters was on, too!), my mum knows it when I decline, as politely as possible, to watch the newest movie with her. Now you, oh blogosphere, if you stumbled across this blog looking for thoughts on the political issues of the day (I've declared JtM a relatively politics-free zone), will know why I hate it so.
Never have I seen a network that carried and produces programming that manages to be misandrous misogynist, homophobic and ageist both ways, all at the same time. If there was a male version of the Lifetime Network, I'm sure there'd be worldwide protest. I'd protest, too, because sexism is A Bad Thing and it keeps people from appreciating each other as, well, people. Not only that, most of the movies just suck, and club you over the head with the message that Men Are Evil And Will Hurt You, Except For The Queeny Gay Guys Who Should Be Women Anyway, and where the fuck are the lesbians? The bisexual women? Oh, right. They haven't found the right guy yet. Fuck The What. I thought that being lesbian meant that you didn't like any guys, at least not romantically and/or sexually, and being a bisexual was like the old Almond Joy commercials said: Sometimes you feel like some nuts, sometimes you don't. Except it's way, way harder than candy bar preferences, but aaaanyway. Goddamn, I have never seen a network that was somehow potentially offensive to damn near everybody. TV shows, yes. Book series, yes. I believe that anyone who is a Christian, a writer, a librarian, a bookseller, or basically anyone who likes books should be offended by Left Behind and books of its ilk. But never a whole damn network. Goddamn.
~Jordi~
Building a House and more rambling,
If I could build my house, it'd have five bedrooms and three bathrooms. Because, even if I love my girlfriend to tiny pieces, the fact is, no matter where we go in this great country of ours, there will be the making of friends, and there can never be enough bathrooms, nor can there be enough kitchen space. So, gourmet kitchen and all the crazy shit I can think of. Indoor swimming pool, a waterslide or eight, a hot tub, one of those tubs with the lights in 'em that change colors, the showers with a zillion nozzles that spray nearly every part of your body...yeah.
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Clothes shopping is a pain in the ass. I've pretty much abandoned hope entering into it. Because of my Fucking Weird Body Shape, things that look great on the rack give me the appearance of having borrowed it from someone either two sizes smaller, or two sizes larger than I am. My height puts me in petite sizes, and, unfortunately, I cannot fit "petite" clothing, because, apparently, designers and manufacturers seem to think that "petite" means "beanpole", when, from my experience and that of many others, that is not the case. So what I've done is pretty much...quit. For the longest time, much of my self-esteem was tied to my weight. Or, the lack of self-esteem was tied to my increasing weight; the higher the number on the scale got, the shittier I felt, and the shittier I felt, the higher the number on the scale got. Then I managed to break the vicious cycle thanks in large part to teachers in high school who made exercise fun. Then it became the fact that my thirteen-year-old brother, who is the youngest child in the family, by the way, is taller than I am. By six inches. When you add a height that is considered short enough to be nicknamed "Tiny" with much junk in the trunk, thighs of steel, and, of course, Teh Bewbs, you get the the most frustrating shopping trip ever.
Did I mention my undying hatred of the futility that is finding a pair of jeans that fits all of the bottom part of me correctly?
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The fact that I'm bisexual might not prevent me from having children or ever going near them, but the fact that I just feel uncomfortable around those of other people make me feel terrible if ever I should be forced via Parental Guilt Trip into having any of my own. For starters, unlike most people, I know that raising children is a lot of work. My decision to not have children is grounded very much in the reality that bearing and raising children is a whole lot of work, and I know that I am neither willing nor able to do it. The second thing I realize is that if ever I should regret any decision either way, it's far better to regret not having children than it is to regret having them. At least not having kids is reversible, and you're not fucking up anyone else in the process. Also....being pregnant is icky. The thought of just being in that state makes me cringe. Visibly. You could probably hear my cringing if you were close enough. The idea I have is of some sort of semi-sentient parasite living in my womb and making me swell until I'm a hideous balloon, until such a time when it claws its way out through my gaping vagina.
Miracle of life, indeed.
More like a really good way to turn your poor hubby off to sex. Forever.
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I believe that there are pimps and repo men who won't work at LifeWay. I have issue with the many "Christian Advice" books that, at best, sound like normal secular books with a few Bible verses in them, and at worst give stupid and/or dangerous (physically, mentally, spiritually, or any combination therein). I especially hate those who push virginity upon an unsuspecting public. It's a racket. My sister has one of those goddamn promise rings. I never made the pledge. Too pricey. But, my sister has a promise ring, both brothers have a certificate. And if they screw up, they can always head down to their local LifeWay or Family Christian store and pick up a new ring, a new devotional, a new Bible, and re-renew their fractured relationships with God and their future spouse that may never even come. What a dismal view of the whole virginitycult pledge thing. Mind, I haven't had sex yet because it just happened like that, but hey. If you can stay chaste for that future partner of yours, more power to you. But if you should decide not to, hey, more power to you. As long as you're not a fucking idiot about it.
~Jordi~
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Clothes shopping is a pain in the ass. I've pretty much abandoned hope entering into it. Because of my Fucking Weird Body Shape, things that look great on the rack give me the appearance of having borrowed it from someone either two sizes smaller, or two sizes larger than I am. My height puts me in petite sizes, and, unfortunately, I cannot fit "petite" clothing, because, apparently, designers and manufacturers seem to think that "petite" means "beanpole", when, from my experience and that of many others, that is not the case. So what I've done is pretty much...quit. For the longest time, much of my self-esteem was tied to my weight. Or, the lack of self-esteem was tied to my increasing weight; the higher the number on the scale got, the shittier I felt, and the shittier I felt, the higher the number on the scale got. Then I managed to break the vicious cycle thanks in large part to teachers in high school who made exercise fun. Then it became the fact that my thirteen-year-old brother, who is the youngest child in the family, by the way, is taller than I am. By six inches. When you add a height that is considered short enough to be nicknamed "Tiny" with much junk in the trunk, thighs of steel, and, of course, Teh Bewbs, you get the the most frustrating shopping trip ever.
Did I mention my undying hatred of the futility that is finding a pair of jeans that fits all of the bottom part of me correctly?
--------------
The fact that I'm bisexual might not prevent me from having children or ever going near them, but the fact that I just feel uncomfortable around those of other people make me feel terrible if ever I should be forced via Parental Guilt Trip into having any of my own. For starters, unlike most people, I know that raising children is a lot of work. My decision to not have children is grounded very much in the reality that bearing and raising children is a whole lot of work, and I know that I am neither willing nor able to do it. The second thing I realize is that if ever I should regret any decision either way, it's far better to regret not having children than it is to regret having them. At least not having kids is reversible, and you're not fucking up anyone else in the process. Also....being pregnant is icky. The thought of just being in that state makes me cringe. Visibly. You could probably hear my cringing if you were close enough. The idea I have is of some sort of semi-sentient parasite living in my womb and making me swell until I'm a hideous balloon, until such a time when it claws its way out through my gaping vagina.
Miracle of life, indeed.
More like a really good way to turn your poor hubby off to sex. Forever.
----------
I believe that there are pimps and repo men who won't work at LifeWay. I have issue with the many "Christian Advice" books that, at best, sound like normal secular books with a few Bible verses in them, and at worst give stupid and/or dangerous (physically, mentally, spiritually, or any combination therein). I especially hate those who push virginity upon an unsuspecting public. It's a racket. My sister has one of those goddamn promise rings. I never made the pledge. Too pricey. But, my sister has a promise ring, both brothers have a certificate. And if they screw up, they can always head down to their local LifeWay or Family Christian store and pick up a new ring, a new devotional, a new Bible, and re-renew their fractured relationships with God and their future spouse that may never even come. What a dismal view of the whole virginity
~Jordi~
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Because Sexual Urges Are Natural...
Attention, women of America, your sexual urges are not evil. They're perfectly natural, and depending on what you believe, they're God's gift to you.
It's fine to admit that you have things that turn you on. There, I've said it. It's cool to think about and want sex as much as men do. It's cool to think about sex as just that, and you don't have to have been molested by a family member to like and want sex.
In fact, it's probably way, way healthier to admit that you actually have such urges than it is to try and hide 'em. It's okay to want one-night stands (as long as you use protection, and are not stupid about it), and yes, it's okay not to need male permission or participation if you go that way, provided that you're smart about it.
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That said, it kind of pisses me the fuck off when we have guys who for-really think that women who like sex are bruised and broken inside, and are having sex to gain affection, and the reason why women become strippers and actresses in porn is because Daddy never hugged them as a child and the next door neighbor touched them in their no-no spot.
...I'll have you know that, when I was younger (about twelve), I wanted to be a stripper, then that dream fell flat real quick at about fourteen when I realized that my boobs weren't going to grow any more. Now, I think I'll write porn. Yet, miracle of miracles, aside from the normal arguments between a twenty-one-year-old woman (oh god, I referred to myself as a woman. I feel old...) and her father, who still thinks she needs protection from The Big Bad World, and despite the fact that his advice is impractical and/or lost in sports metaphors, my dad and I get along far, far better than most people that I know of and their dads.
And so, I wonder when the hell this started, how this started, and why it hasn't stopped yet.
More later.
~Jordi~
It's fine to admit that you have things that turn you on. There, I've said it. It's cool to think about and want sex as much as men do. It's cool to think about sex as just that, and you don't have to have been molested by a family member to like and want sex.
In fact, it's probably way, way healthier to admit that you actually have such urges than it is to try and hide 'em. It's okay to want one-night stands (as long as you use protection, and are not stupid about it), and yes, it's okay not to need male permission or participation if you go that way, provided that you're smart about it.
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That said, it kind of pisses me the fuck off when we have guys who for-really think that women who like sex are bruised and broken inside, and are having sex to gain affection, and the reason why women become strippers and actresses in porn is because Daddy never hugged them as a child and the next door neighbor touched them in their no-no spot.
...I'll have you know that, when I was younger (about twelve), I wanted to be a stripper, then that dream fell flat real quick at about fourteen when I realized that my boobs weren't going to grow any more. Now, I think I'll write porn. Yet, miracle of miracles, aside from the normal arguments between a twenty-one-year-old woman (oh god, I referred to myself as a woman. I feel old...) and her father, who still thinks she needs protection from The Big Bad World, and despite the fact that his advice is impractical and/or lost in sports metaphors, my dad and I get along far, far better than most people that I know of and their dads.
And so, I wonder when the hell this started, how this started, and why it hasn't stopped yet.
More later.
~Jordi~
Friday, March 28, 2008
Some days, I want to be a cat lady, and more things on Bisexual Life.
If my choices are between marrying some scuzzy perv that was selected for me by the church elders because the eldest daughter of a pastor's child is a great bargaining chip, and having my parents and relatives hate and shun me forever because the love of my life happened to possess the same genitalia as I did, sometimes, being the crazy cat lady is a great way to go.
But, I love Syretia too much to do that, and I'll deal with coming out to my parents later.
But yeah. Work sucked, and I am glad that I escaped with my sanity and my (relative) virginity intact.
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I think about the word "bisexual" and why both gays and straights hate us so. Maybe the fact that gays think that we hide behind heterosexual privilege, and straights think we wanna fuck everyone, maybe that's it. I refer to myself as "bisexual, teetering on the edge of lesbian". Makes sense. Maybe being bisexual gives Dear Mum some hope as she and dad look at the edge of 50, hoping that I will fill my quiver with potential God Warriors, and maybe the fact that many of my sex dreams center around women is "just a phase" and I'll become a good, demure little hausfrau to some big abusive brute of a pastor's son whose dad never hugged him as a child and whose uncle probably touched him in the "no-no place", and now either won't have sex with me at all or will expect me to fuck on demand, even if I'm sick or something.
But, I still think that boys are pretty. Probably won't want to do one, but they are pretty to look at. I am somewhat attracted to the male gender. Just not any in the Church Kid species. They're fucked up as it is without my hippie liberal views.
~Jordi~
But, I love Syretia too much to do that, and I'll deal with coming out to my parents later.
But yeah. Work sucked, and I am glad that I escaped with my sanity and my (relative) virginity intact.
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I think about the word "bisexual" and why both gays and straights hate us so. Maybe the fact that gays think that we hide behind heterosexual privilege, and straights think we wanna fuck everyone, maybe that's it. I refer to myself as "bisexual, teetering on the edge of lesbian". Makes sense. Maybe being bisexual gives Dear Mum some hope as she and dad look at the edge of 50, hoping that I will fill my quiver with potential God Warriors, and maybe the fact that many of my sex dreams center around women is "just a phase" and I'll become a good, demure little hausfrau to some big abusive brute of a pastor's son whose dad never hugged him as a child and whose uncle probably touched him in the "no-no place", and now either won't have sex with me at all or will expect me to fuck on demand, even if I'm sick or something.
But, I still think that boys are pretty. Probably won't want to do one, but they are pretty to look at. I am somewhat attracted to the male gender. Just not any in the Church Kid species. They're fucked up as it is without my hippie liberal views.
~Jordi~
Thursday, March 27, 2008
I hate dresses. I hate them so much.
I hate dresses far, far more than I could ever hate skirts. I know you were expecting some grandiose political statement on how dresses represent male oppression, but that's not why I hate them. No, that's not it at all. At least with a skirt, I can easily find a cute shirt to go with them depending on how formal an occasion it is.
I hate them because many, many dresses are just wrong for me. A dress, if I actually get over my general loathing of that specific article of clothing, that is the right cut and right color for me, and I feel like a princess. But because I am shaped so awkwardly, with my big ass and tiny waist that hides juuuust below this belly that I can't seem to be fully rid of and narrow hips, I keep trying on the wrong cut of dress, which, as a result, makes me feel, at best, like a pregnant woman, and at worst, like a drag queen. Not that there's anything wrong with pregnant women or drag queens, but if I'm going for a night at Ye Old Theatre, I want to feel glamorous, not...not like I'm smuggling a basketball or something. Which is something that Dear Mum forgets sometimes, that I prefer skirts to dresses, and slacks to skirts, and that doesn't make me a lesbian (though if she guessed at it, she gets partial credit).
I think I'll apply to Borders again. Or something.
~Jordi~
I hate them because many, many dresses are just wrong for me. A dress, if I actually get over my general loathing of that specific article of clothing, that is the right cut and right color for me, and I feel like a princess. But because I am shaped so awkwardly, with my big ass and tiny waist that hides juuuust below this belly that I can't seem to be fully rid of and narrow hips, I keep trying on the wrong cut of dress, which, as a result, makes me feel, at best, like a pregnant woman, and at worst, like a drag queen. Not that there's anything wrong with pregnant women or drag queens, but if I'm going for a night at Ye Old Theatre, I want to feel glamorous, not...not like I'm smuggling a basketball or something. Which is something that Dear Mum forgets sometimes, that I prefer skirts to dresses, and slacks to skirts, and that doesn't make me a lesbian (though if she guessed at it, she gets partial credit).
I think I'll apply to Borders again. Or something.
~Jordi~
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Hope and all that Good Stuff
Hi, guys! I hope you've had a very happy Easter (for those of you for whom the Good Sunday has already passed) or are having a happy Easter!
It seems that I actually have readers now! Why don't ya say hi! I'd love for people to come see my fledgling attempt at a public blog.
So, what is this holiday about to me? Well, when I was a Good Little Christian Daughter (TM), it was about the hope that the resurrection of Jesus brought. And the message of hope is still there, to me. But what does a life as one of God's Favorite Children bring? Bondage. Lack of self-expression. Repression. Suppression. Loneliness, because you're not allowed to talk to those outside your flock unless you're trying to "sell" Jesus to them. Boredom, since every damn thing under the damn sun is a damn sin. Exclusion, because you're not sanctified enough to enter. I could go on, and on, and on.
I think that if the Jesus I learned about since I was four years old came to be in this time period, he'd be born in a garage, and he'd hang out with AIDS patients and in gay bars. And the Sanctified Holy-Ghost Filled People would immediately shun him on sight because he made time to talk to the "undesirables" of our day and offer them hope and acceptance without forcing them to become "Holy" enough.
Which, I think, the Evangelicals as a whole have lost sight of, and Pentecostals in specific. They're so busy trying to make a goddamn quota that they forget the message. That's why I think that people respect Evangelicals less than they do lawyers and prostitutes. The slimiest lawyer would never be caught dead working at a Christian bookstore because even that guy's conscience wouldn't allow it.
Happy Easter.
~Jordi~
It seems that I actually have readers now! Why don't ya say hi! I'd love for people to come see my fledgling attempt at a public blog.
So, what is this holiday about to me? Well, when I was a Good Little Christian Daughter (TM), it was about the hope that the resurrection of Jesus brought. And the message of hope is still there, to me. But what does a life as one of God's Favorite Children bring? Bondage. Lack of self-expression. Repression. Suppression. Loneliness, because you're not allowed to talk to those outside your flock unless you're trying to "sell" Jesus to them. Boredom, since every damn thing under the damn sun is a damn sin. Exclusion, because you're not sanctified enough to enter. I could go on, and on, and on.
I think that if the Jesus I learned about since I was four years old came to be in this time period, he'd be born in a garage, and he'd hang out with AIDS patients and in gay bars. And the Sanctified Holy-Ghost Filled People would immediately shun him on sight because he made time to talk to the "undesirables" of our day and offer them hope and acceptance without forcing them to become "Holy" enough.
Which, I think, the Evangelicals as a whole have lost sight of, and Pentecostals in specific. They're so busy trying to make a goddamn quota that they forget the message. That's why I think that people respect Evangelicals less than they do lawyers and prostitutes. The slimiest lawyer would never be caught dead working at a Christian bookstore because even that guy's conscience wouldn't allow it.
Happy Easter.
~Jordi~
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Pain, Fear, Loneliness, Anemone Flowers.
I wish to tell my father the real reason I do not have a boyfriend. I want to tell my mother why I have not thought of names for my children (...Well, I consider my stories, fanfic and otherwise, to be my babies, but anyway). I want to tell them that I like women, and that I have been involved with one for nearly one year.
And this is why I do not have a boyfriend, why I do not plan to have kids, and why I generally turn away all advances from the opposite sex. I am bisexual, yes, but I am monogamous by nature. And when dear old Dad says things like, "I'll love you no matter what, and I will not love you any less no matter what you decide to be", it kills me.
It fucking kills me to hold it in. It kills me even more when I think about the very prospect of telling them that I'm bi. It kills me a bit inside every day, as if their love acts as the gag in my mouth, and the bonds that hold me in that closet.
I don't want to have to kill myself and have them know that way, nor will I come out to them on either of their deathbeds. That'd suck, and make it even more awkward and painful.
Those of you with parents who are accepting, you are lucky. To those of you who have faced this dilemma before, I want to know where in the blue hell did you find the courage, and I commend you. To those who face the dilemma I face now, I pray that you find the courage to tell those you love.
~Jordi~
And this is why I do not have a boyfriend, why I do not plan to have kids, and why I generally turn away all advances from the opposite sex. I am bisexual, yes, but I am monogamous by nature. And when dear old Dad says things like, "I'll love you no matter what, and I will not love you any less no matter what you decide to be", it kills me.
It fucking kills me to hold it in. It kills me even more when I think about the very prospect of telling them that I'm bi. It kills me a bit inside every day, as if their love acts as the gag in my mouth, and the bonds that hold me in that closet.
I don't want to have to kill myself and have them know that way, nor will I come out to them on either of their deathbeds. That'd suck, and make it even more awkward and painful.
Those of you with parents who are accepting, you are lucky. To those of you who have faced this dilemma before, I want to know where in the blue hell did you find the courage, and I commend you. To those who face the dilemma I face now, I pray that you find the courage to tell those you love.
~Jordi~
Friday, March 21, 2008
The Utter Futility of It All.
On one of the Slacktivist's Left Behind entries, I was struck by something in the footnotes of all things. Since what one is getting saved by is pretty much pointless, then what one is getting saved from has got to be pretty damn interesting.
I was also listening to random songs off of random Silent Hill soundtracks (I know, shut up), and I wondered. Were we really put into this world to be happy, or to be miserable?
I don't claim to have the answer, but I can give you a really, really good guess. I think that we, as individual humans, can make this existence either a happy time or a miserable time, and that shit does happen, that bad things happen to good people, and good things happen to bad people at times. But life is not a never-ending walk on sunshine, nor is it a never-ending abyss.
I feel that Pentecostalism is all about futility, and the misery that it brings. It basically teaches that we're put on this Earth to suffer, and even the Magical Jesus Incantation doesn't work, because there's even more pain and suffering involved, and if we don't follow a super-strict set of rules, we go to Hell and suffer some more.
Does anyone in Pentecostalism, when they're giving their Quasi-Celebrity Endorsement Testimony, mention how fucking hopeless it feels, since you pretty much can't do anything? Everything else is "sin", right? But church is boring and pointless, the nice "Christian Alternatives" aren't even all that great, and you feel isolated from everyone who doesn't have to live up to a billion and one pointless and petty rules. Does anyone know about how goddamn futile it sounds when you're told that life on Earth is futile, then church life seems, you know, dry as all fucking hell, because you do nothing but wait around for Jesus to come back, and tell other people to...well...wait...till...Jesus comes back.
Yeaaah.
So, in the end, part of the reason why I've abandoned the faith of my parents [/melodrama] is because it seemed so fucking pointless in the end, since I never felt good enough for God in the grand scheme.
More later.
~Jordi~
I was also listening to random songs off of random Silent Hill soundtracks (I know, shut up), and I wondered. Were we really put into this world to be happy, or to be miserable?
I don't claim to have the answer, but I can give you a really, really good guess. I think that we, as individual humans, can make this existence either a happy time or a miserable time, and that shit does happen, that bad things happen to good people, and good things happen to bad people at times. But life is not a never-ending walk on sunshine, nor is it a never-ending abyss.
I feel that Pentecostalism is all about futility, and the misery that it brings. It basically teaches that we're put on this Earth to suffer, and even the Magical Jesus Incantation doesn't work, because there's even more pain and suffering involved, and if we don't follow a super-strict set of rules, we go to Hell and suffer some more.
Does anyone in Pentecostalism, when they're giving their Quasi-Celebrity Endorsement Testimony, mention how fucking hopeless it feels, since you pretty much can't do anything? Everything else is "sin", right? But church is boring and pointless, the nice "Christian Alternatives" aren't even all that great, and you feel isolated from everyone who doesn't have to live up to a billion and one pointless and petty rules. Does anyone know about how goddamn futile it sounds when you're told that life on Earth is futile, then church life seems, you know, dry as all fucking hell, because you do nothing but wait around for Jesus to come back, and tell other people to...well...wait...till...Jesus comes back.
Yeaaah.
So, in the end, part of the reason why I've abandoned the faith of my parents [/melodrama] is because it seemed so fucking pointless in the end, since I never felt good enough for God in the grand scheme.
More later.
~Jordi~
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
~Boys and Girls Be Ambitious~
(Continued from the previous entry)
Whaddya know? More song titles as blog topics.
Again, it has nothing to do with the post. I wonder, can you call yourself a feminist and be pro-porn? It sounds like it wouldn't make sense, as most feminists see porn as bad. It's like the question of can you love animals and care about their welfare and still eat meat, the answer is different for everyone, and unfortunately, there's no wrong answer to a question like that.
So I think that it's possible to hold to feminist ideas that women have the right to choose who and what they want to do, and for what reasons; that a woman's place is wherever the hell she wants, even if it is in the business of porn.
My name is Jordi, and I am pro-porn. Hi.
Whaddya know? More song titles as blog topics.
Again, it has nothing to do with the post. I wonder, can you call yourself a feminist and be pro-porn? It sounds like it wouldn't make sense, as most feminists see porn as bad. It's like the question of can you love animals and care about their welfare and still eat meat, the answer is different for everyone, and unfortunately, there's no wrong answer to a question like that.
So I think that it's possible to hold to feminist ideas that women have the right to choose who and what they want to do, and for what reasons; that a woman's place is wherever the hell she wants, even if it is in the business of porn.
My name is Jordi, and I am pro-porn. Hi.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Hello My Treacherous Friends!
I felt the need to have a song title for this entry. I doubt that the Blogosphere needs to hear My Thoughts On Gay Porn, because I am neither a Fundie seeking to make everyone "pure" nor am I in the right demographic to find steaming hot man-on-man action in any way sexually arousing (though if that's your thing, I won't knock it), I will admit that I like porn, mostly in written form. What can I say? I'm not exactly the most visual of people and most of my visual porn veers more into the animated territory. Buuuuut, my reasons for preferring hentai to actual porn has more to do with the fact that, If You Can Draw It, It Can Happen. But anyway.
I'm a girl who is pro-porn. No way of getting around that. I also support those who work in the sex industry, because that, really, is what feminism is about, at least to me. It's about women choosing to do and to be whoever and whatever they damn well please. And no, my appreciation of pornography and admission that I have a sex drive, and that things turn me on have absolutely nothing to do with me being molested as a child, nor do I have a poor relationship with my father. Other than the general goings-on between a father and a post-adolescent daughter, I'd say that I get along with said father a bit better than most of my friends.
Back to my position on Sex Work as a human being of the female persuasion: Yes, it can get bad. Yes, it can get exploitative. No, I don't think it should be abolished outright, because people thought
I'm a girl who is pro-porn. No way of getting around that. I also support those who work in the sex industry, because that, really, is what feminism is about, at least to me. It's about women choosing to do and to be whoever and whatever they damn well please. And no, my appreciation of pornography and admission that I have a sex drive, and that things turn me on have absolutely nothing to do with me being molested as a child, nor do I have a poor relationship with my father. Other than the general goings-on between a father and a post-adolescent daughter, I'd say that I get along with said father a bit better than most of my friends.
Back to my position on Sex Work as a human being of the female persuasion: Yes, it can get bad. Yes, it can get exploitative. No, I don't think it should be abolished outright, because people thought